The fruit goes by in basket loads,
The bounty of this year is told.
The kibbutz sighs out a quite cheer,
As babies and young mums appear.
In city streets a war erupts.
Guns, balloons and paper cups.
The combatants drenched by each new salvo,
Run to taps to replenish ammo.
Three times a year we ascended en masse.
Bread is banned till Pesach's past,
In huts we sleep all through Sukkot,
But, cheese is king on Shavuot.
The traditions of the day observed,
A pescetarian meal is served.
All quiche, crepes, tarts and pies,
Salads and pastas of every size.
Dressed in white we welcome summer
(Even though the heat's a bummer.)
Green leaves dress the halls and doorways,
May life be easy like this always.
We celebrate the renewed flora,
Partaking in harvest's plethora.
We sing and laugh and dance the Hora,
And thank the Lord for the gift of Torah.