A second sleepless night, sorry and sore. Her eyes water still, her nose is raw, And her chest aches from constant coughing. She lies on her back in the pre-dawn darkness Mustering the will for what must be done.
At last, she throws off the covers and stands. Dressing is easy: her one‑piece black bathing suit, Covered by her flowered terry cloth robe. Slipping her bare feet into flip‑flops, Out the front door she steps.
She walks east on Fifth Street with a steady gait, And crosses the quiet coastal road with ease. The pavement gives way to packed sand, Palms framing the well‑trod path. She pauses where the trail dips toward the beach And takes in the calm water beneath a pastel sky.
Now she makes her way down to the shore And slips off her robe as she goes, Letting it drop to the sand where it will. Then into the cool, calm water she wades, Not pausing until she is waist deep.
Steeling herself, she pulls her knees up to submerge. Then, surfacing, she floats, her eyes to the sky, Letting salt water linger at her nose and mouth. And now on her feet, she returns to the robe, Where she sits facing the new day, Breathing through her nose.
For the seventh autumn in a row, The landscaper receives a written request: Trim the foliage outside 2 Pardes Street. As before, enclosed is a generous check— An amount far greater than the task should merit.
Uneasy again, he tries to address the excess, Reaching out to The Beresit Foundation – The name embossed in gold at the top. But no address appears, no number to call, And nothing, as before, turns up in any search.
He returns to Pardes in his aging truck And tries the garden door. Locked as before. He knocks, then peers through the wire lattice mesh And waits. No answer, no footsteps, no voice. Yet the garden within is tended to perfection.
He finishes the trimming as in years before. The result is fine, though the wall still wears its grime, So, unbidden, having a cleaner and water for his next job, He washes the wall himself, free of charge.
Finished, he gathers his tools and prepares to depart, But before he leaves, he pauses to reflect on his work, And there he sees the garden door ajar.
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