In the month of May, on our way to The Tree of Life
Synagogue, long, sticky noses would tumble
from the sycamores. We caught them and stuck them
on our noses to extend them, but between
one avenue and another, the noses
that had tumbled would lose their grip, and our noses
became shorter again. Failure did not deter us though
there were always more avenues, more sycamores.