Llanbrynmair Dawn

In the inhuman early hours of the morning

The birds and sheep daven shacharit.

Wrapped in feathers and wool,

Minyan members join their voices together

Like a column of smoke,

An offering of wild voice

Ascending from the treetops.

A chaotic congregation of tiny seraphim

Furiously declares the glory of God,

Punctuated at moments

By a mourning dove’s coo

Or the shout of an angry crow.

On the fields

Mothers and children call out to each other:

“Mama!” 

“I’m here child.”

“Mama! Where are you?”

“I’m here.”

Bleating and bawling

Across hedgerows and fences of stone,

wood and wire

Their voices fill the air with call and response.

Beneath the vibrant air lies the earth.

In the dark dawn shadows

Lambs and ewes move unseen

Upon the face of the land;

Snuffling and rustling

Tearing grass from its roots,

While far off in the distance

Others call to their own:

“Mama!”
“I’m here child.”

Slowly

The dawn blossom unfolds,

Revealing our world,

Riven and woven,

A synagogue of separation,

Longing and attachment.