My daughter and I share a vision of
climbing mountains, sitting in cool pools of mountain streams
floating in seas of salt and warmth
black with skin of healthy minerals of mud
riding bareback on galloping horses,
their skin glimmering from sweet sweat of the morning hot sun
sitting on the snake path under a rock, catching a breath and a picture of Rome below
the ancient wadis and bores of  holding waters
the screams of children from the top of Masada, watching
the dancing all night in the village below, where laundry blows in the wind
heavy rains, waiting with deep mud for that first footstep into the gan
wonderful chocolate, smells of fresh baked bread, flowers fresh for Shabbat
whipped cream piled high, floating on steaming cups of café
we loved this air, this dewy filled air, caressed it each day
wandered in and out of lost places
still looking for that time when all will be peace
when all will sit beneath the olive and fig
sharing dreams