End of December and the green of King Saul Avenue 
copies itself from leaves, the fire
remains in red and the yellow is yellow. Tonight 
during intervals of sudden rain she talks 
of Martin Buber. Such a Hidden Light from traffic signals 
and car beams. And in my body her words suspended 
like electric wires, under which the memory of her 
swirls, a cropduster's acrobatics.

Copyright © 2002 by Ronny Someck. Translated from the Hebrew by Moshe Dor and Barbara Goldberg. Reprinted by permission of the University of Wisconsin Press and the Dryad Press. All rights reserved.