Head of the Year

The birthday of the world. To enlarge the artwork, just click on it.

Head of the Year

While they praise God
I send out new year cards to Jews.
While they sit and stand, stand and sit in shul
I walk Wolly through the sun-splotched forest.

The dog keeps me from feeling lonely.
It's a one-way conversation with Wolly:
Sit. Stand. Come. Good boy!
But everyone else is in shul,
praising God.
Come, Wolly. Sit, Wolly.
Good boy!


Blogger Lao Qiao said...

A surprisingly, mysteriously, sad poem. Despite the fact that religion is a force that makes good people bad and smart people stupid, we feel left out if we don't participate in traditional rituals.

12:01 PM  

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