Beneath a setting sun my wife strikes a match
to kindle the Shabbat lights.
Two candles flickering in the open air of our porch
on a summer eve in late August.
As her voice rises into prayer, the cicadas
join with their song,
as if all of nature surrounding us
has become part of her prayer
welcoming the Shabbat angels
into our home.
The candle flames like stars
gleaming in the night sky,
the cicada chorus continuing throughout our meal
long after the blessings are done,
their music like the strings of an invisible instrument
vibrating to the heart of the universe.
