The man whose rod sprouts will be the one I have chosen.
Numbers 17:23
When I lay with you this morning,
I felt the “Buds had opened, flowers had blossomed,
and almonds already ripened, …..”
on this snowy day. Life streamed
into the room in the autumn
of our lives, as I clung to your warm
body, protective and loving. Beside you
for almost 60 years, you stand as a pillar
of strength in my intractable life,
growing from almost a child to a
matriarch. Aaron’s rod’s still blossoming
when you bring brightly opened daffodils
with groceries while I’m having morning
coffee which you kindly prepared.
Smell of your fresh body, smoothness
of your shaven face, muscles of your
fine legs, distract me from your balding
head, thin silver-gray curls, lying
on your sturdy neck. Aaron’s rod
is handed to those who are fruitful
and multiply as yours gave us
two healthy babies to bring into
this calamitous world. Children
with their own growing children,
children who are graying past, middle age,
the rod is passed generationally
and generously. Each day a flowering
of hope for this deflowering world.
