The time has come, the Torah says,
To speak of many things,
Of Pesach – and Pesach Sheni,
Of Menorah – and Levi’im.
Of journeys at HaShem’s command,
Of visions of fire and cloud,
Of each tribe in its essential place,
Of silver horns, and loud.
Of lusting now to savor meat,
Of dubbing mun unpleasant,
Of naught but quail for a month of days,
Of losing their taste for pheasant.
Of prophecy cast beyond Moshe,
To the seventy sages, by God,
Of new voices heard within the camp,
Those of Eldad, and Medad.
Of whispered insinuations spoke,
Beyond their brother’s hearing,
Of tzara’as, and a heartfelt prayer,
Of waiting for Miriam’s healing.
(with apologies to Lewis Carroll)