Pasqua

White doves, just under the eaves, on Miramar. Yerushalayim, also just this time. Small window in a tiny room, opening to courtyard below. Calling before dawn, hilltop to hilltop, morning to come. Of that place--embedded, if a song could be so. Awakening, rather. Sound of muezzin, from somewhere far off, a tower on another hill...also of the place. And a lion's roar, in the darkness as well--from the old British fort, on yet another hill... All together, morning light...