in response to jackie's double rainbow

there are days, midwinter, when the sun is strong enough to warm the outer skin of things, including us, even beneath our jackets and felted woolen sweaters, the sun hits our skin and our freckles shiver in excitement. the egyptian, the german, and i lay down mid-field, amongst

the frozen carrots. our digging forks, defeated, lay beside us, all of us a fallen army with

red flags waving to the cold, 'that's it,' we say, 'that's it.' we are in the shape of cookies,

really, funny lumps of layers, arms oozed out over someone else's ankles. and then, there comes, the sun. and we all are momentarily warm.

i don't remember what we speak of, language,

most likely, as the egyptian, the german and i usually find ourselves discussing words,

their variety, their inclinations towards emotions, their origin and their children. then, plotzlich, suddenly, the german points up and on the cirrus cloud above appears a rainbow, fantastic, concentrated, lighting up the whole mare's mane, so that it morphs into a feather of some tropical bird we've never bothered to learn the name of. i think i began the laugh. the handsomeness of the colors, the shape of the feather, the placement of it right above us, right at that time, right between heaven and the carrots, us and this art.

once faded and finished, we three stood back up and rearranged our bodies into neatness.

i said a prayer in english. the german spoke in hebrew. the egyptian, arabic.

it didn't matter, the language: the sentiment, the event, the same.

language

let's raise our glasses,

so that we can not see.

let's toast,

with yoghurt and marmalade.

let's wave,

then straighten out.

let us love language in its inability

to agree, in its downright shakiness.

let's love the tongue that says it wrong

and all the heads that nod and hum

without getting the drift,

meaning the wood,

found oceanside,

meaning

softened, salted, sandy.