Elul

A sudden turn of heads
reverberations though the house
the pitter-patter of cats running away
must you really do that every day?

The misplaced sound
which belongs someplace else
packaged neatly at the shul
or preserved in our memory of long ago

Which at once both pushes and pulls
shocking and familiar
the daily reminder
as the moon waxes then wanes
the warning
as the day approaches

Yet what can we do
the daily rhythm pulls us under
each day forgetting
and yet
stuck like a small splinter
is the sound