Rosh Hashannah Poem

And in the Seventh Month

And in the seventh month,

on the first day of the month

ye shall have a holy convocation

ye shall do no manner of servile work

it is a day of blowing the horn

and honey cake

and ye shall wear a decent suit

and have trouble parking

and wave to the Freidmans, the Kleins, the what's-their-names,

and the various other members of the tribe who you haven't seen for a year

and who you honestly don't really like that much

and there shall be much responsive reading

and little legroom

and ye shall look repeatedly at thine timepiece;

and minutes shall pass that seem like hours,

and all shall go home and nap.

and ye shall dream of preparing a burnt-offering for a sweet savour unto the LORD

one young bullock, one ram, seven he-lambs of the first year without blemish,

and you shall look down and find that you are wearing a robe that is too short,

your private parts are uncovered,and ye shall feel a draft in thine loins.

And ye shall awake to the sound of horns

the intro of National Public Radio's All Things Considered

And ye shall find that the new year is full of surprises,

The housing market is booming,unemployment is at its lowest point ever,the streets of Baghdad are quiet,the coexistence university opens in Hebron,cancer can be cured with a mix of nicotine patches and pineapple juice,and the feature story is all about the Jews:

They've stopped worrying.

A sweet savor unto the LORD.