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Haibun
Newspaper
My father came
from Russia. When my younger sister was born, he was left with
five little girls to bring up.
her name was
Flora
I was told
she loved lilacs
the mother
I never knew
When papa would
set the table, he would first put down a sheet of newspaper.
dishes set out
a black and white newspaper
covers the white table
my sisters and I watch and wait
papa's potato pancakes
One day I invited
a friend over for lunch. I put down the newspaper. She asked,
"where is the table cloth?" I was so embarrassed. I did not know
of table cloths.
Many years later, I was watching a movie about Russian
immigrants. They were expecting cousins for dinner. The mother
covered the table with a newspaper. There was my childhood. It
was not that papa did not know what to do. It was the way of the
immigrants at that time.
a holiday
table
with bone china and silver
set on fine linen
my heart remembers love placed
on a sheet of newspaper
Weeds
we were five
little girls without a mother
taking care of one another
just ten years between the first and the last
my papa a sweet and gentle soul
we were his garden out of control
like weeds that take on their own direction
we all turned out completely different
like weeds we all grew up big and strong
like weeds we all just went along
on the prairie
the color of
wildflowers
Newman's
Quality Market
It was a
neighborhood store. When you entered, there was always a
slightly musty smell. In the front window, baskets of fruits
and vegetables. On the left wall the canned goods. Log Cabin
Maple Syrup came in a metal can shaped like a log cabin. On
the back wall a large poster, "Have you had your Moxie
today?'
But it was the row of large silver round tins on the right
side that we headed for after school. Crackers and ...
Peanut Butter
ladled into a paper boat
sold by the pound.
Betty (Newman)
Kaplan
The Rain
I love the
sound of the rain as it patters on the window pane. It makes
me feel secure and safe and takes me back to another time
and place.
I am again a little girl sitting on a window ledge and
watching as the rain makes little bubbles on the sloping
roof. They are my ships and I give each a name and watch as
they go sailing down the drain into another world I have not
met as yet.
snuggling
in a puddle
a tadpole
Betty
Kaplan, US
I Miss The Most
I miss him
most not when I climb into bed at night. I've grown used to
that.
It is the long day and all the little things we did
together.
I wash the dishes and think of all the dinners. I fold the
laundry. Where are his socks?
Emptying the grocery bags, I miss the surprises he put in
when I wasn't looking.
And those very special long trips.
It's all of this plus more.
Oh darn!
the light is out
how to change the bulb
it's up too high
I'll have to climb
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