winter blossoms grow by the hour
pampas grass waves white
frozen flowers born in wind
plucked by the next gust
transported, i
walk the fields of winter wheat
waving white as donkey carts
drag a scythe promising
chlyeb for the weekdays
challah for Sabbath
potato vines threaten to withhold their tubers
hiding under blankets
cold cotton crumbles across my cheeks
fluffy frozen memories
shtetl children in bomb shelters
stitched from rags and skins
escape the hungerby throwing snow
eating snowcones
without syrup
retreating to black bread and cholent
potatoes bob in the pot like marshmallows
in our chocolate milk
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My poetry and the novel, "3 Through History"
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