Sauci Bosner

Letter from this Balcony

Perched somewhat higher than
this o sing a song olive branch
casting early morning breezes on
cotton clad passer byers jogging over Jerusalem’s hills, nothing is heard but iTunes plugged into shut down ears.

These wild sage and jamine smells occupy Jerusalem throughout time,
overcoming radical survival challenges in this most hot spot.
Chassids clad in tallisim seek refuge under fur trimmed streimels, joggling Tehillim in hope of avoiding tan streaked boychicks and alte kake ladies going for a sivvuv before the rugelach.
Darked skinned male workers lie under the olive tree.
Dark skinned women wearing yellow dresses and pink pimped lips accompany Jewish elderly in and out of taxis.

I drink my coffee on this balcony.
In Amsterdam, Mokum Aleph
I would be perched behind the geraniums.