by Ber Horvitz
Today quite early in the morning I bound up
the younger lilac tree near my house –
I took thin branches broken away
and patched each wound with clay.
My mother at the open window was watering
her flower bed
The morning sun so motherly
kissed us both upon our heads.
What a joy my child to heal,
finished doctoring? Come in,
the eggs have long been ready
the milk will boil in the pot.