Zebudah and Huram enjoyed Jerusalem’s evening coolness.
“You’re not cold?” Zebudah worriedly tightened the shawl around Huram’s shoulders. He looked tired and drawn. She gently pressed the limp hand resting in his lap.
With closed eyes Huram leaned his head against the still warm stones of the courtyard, smiled, and shook his head. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” He sniffed the air. “What’s that fragrance?”
Zebudah walked to a shrub growing from a crack in the wall. “The levonah is blooming tonight.”With her fingers she caressed the flower’s long swirl of purple stamens, careful not to touch the hooked spines at the base of their leafy stalks. Slowly, before Zebudah’s eyes more flowers opened their four white-pinkish, delicate petals, exposing their abundant stamens. The courtyard filled with their sweet fragrance, enticing the night insects to visit them.
“Oh, Zebudah!” Huram sighed, content.
