I’m thresholding, G-d, in another season of Summer in my midlife.
I'm grateful for the produce of Your abundance overflowing in the garden,
as well as in our relationship,
as I reap a harvest of my earlier attentiveness.
Now comes the repetitive tasks of maintenance,
weeding out what competes for Your Light.
This year, the dog-days seem to have returned prematurely with the pollinators,
even as You send solstice showers on both the righteous and unrighteous,
bringing relief, as well as oppression, borne on mosquitos' fragile wings.
Dead-head with me, Holy One,
removing spent blossoms to encourage new blooms while this season lasts.
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