New candlesticks, or: My counter

A Sijo new candlesticks on my counter small gold birds in Friday dusk; two wicks catch beneath the match the old words come too easily; alone, I sanctify Shabbat somehow, I've begun again W3 poetry prompt For this week’s W3, I invite all of us to write a poem about doing something familiar under changed… Continue reading New candlesticks, or: My counter →