Sheryl Abbey was born in Bergenfield, New Jersey, USA in 1965. She studied music and architecture, and worked in historic preservation. In 1999, she moved to Israel, where learning Hebrew deepened her love of language, and inspired her to write poetry. She lives in Jerusalem with her husband and three children. Sheryl’s newly-published poetry collection is Along the Edge of Absence, available from Amazon.
Beneath the steeples of Ein Kerem, almond trees wake.
Winter yields to burgeoning buds, petals shine pink.
I blink into their flittering fluttering
wondering how sky fits between branch and bloom
and gaze at cotton candy globes
softening terraces of stone.
There is something sacred in a delicate flower
with the power to relieve this ragged landscape.
I bless the almond tree for its pageantry and sanctity,
for reminding me to have faith in Spring.
Note: Ein Kerem (Vineyard’s Spring) is a hillside village in Jerusalem,
which, according to Christian tradition, is the birthplace of John the Baptist.
In early Spring, almond trees blossom among the village’s many churches,
monasteries and convents.
Under the wide sky of midsummer,
vines climb monastery walls
and sneak past garden gates
where they wait for the sun
to stir their gossamer blossoms.
Once roused, star clusters rustle
and the fireworks display begins.
Flowers flicker and flare.
Beware: magenta blooms blaze.
Somedays, it’s as if the bracts
have entered a pact
with the azure sky,
the other’s color.
When the sun softens, the barrage subsides.
Stems shed tissue paper petals
that eddy in the wind,
leaving skeletons to laze
until next season’s spectacle.
in a copper-bottom pot
on the kitchen stove.
like a Mediterranean sunrise.
I perform a flawless figure eight
in the velvety pulp
with a cracked wooden spoon.
In the gift of a quiet moment,
I ladle myself a bowl.
My insides, emptied
by today’s disappointments,
fill with liquid sunshine.
Poetry in this post: © Sheryl Abbey
Published with the permission of Sheryl Abbey