allison jones hunt

hurry, my love, and come away!

the curve of your cheek is a pomegranate

toward me, across the hills

spread my bed with apples

i will go to the mountain of myrrh

the scent of your breath like apricots

rare fruit of every kind, my love, i have stored away for you

before the day breathes

olam chadash (new world)

the fig tree has sweetened its new green fruit

before the shadows of night are gone

tikkun olam (repair the world)