A Specially Wrapped Gift
by Devora Piha
Like sweets and money, receiving gifts brings happiness to
children. The anticipation of guessing what is inside and
opening the wrapping is a moment of pleasure to children.
Their self esteem soars and the whole world stands, holding
its breath, just for them.
A mother copes with an underachieving child.
by R. Chadshai
It was a long & difficult road. At the end of the 8th
grade we didn't know what sort of certificate she would get.
The column for different subjects on her report card was
by Debbie Blachor
When someone mentions the discord between factions in the
Jewish world, I'm always surprised. Perhaps it's because I
live in Romema, a `cosmopolitan' neighborhood. With so many
different types around, there's no room for looking down at
Guide to Stain Removal
by Nechama Berg
Chewing gum: apply ice to harden gum. Crack or scrape off
excess. Spray with pretreatment aerosol product and rub with
heavy duty liquid detergent. Rinse with hot water. Repeat if
Autumn is Back
by Naomi Bustan
The wind blows through the tall poplar tree,
Its leaves whistle softly in pure delight,
Whispering musical secrets into the crispy air.
Pink, fluffy cotton wool balls are floating in the
Softening the sun's sudden disappearance,
Like little bridesmaids
Dressed in pink satin.
A train of grey clouds is puffing its way,
Pompously, through the sky,
Carrying its precious cargo.
A flock of storks is making its way to the south,
Gleaming white against the once grey train
Which has dissolved into a flock of woolly sheep.
The birds' choir chirps its last encore, as a
Family of stray cats makes its way hastily
To the nearest shelter.
The last stubborn little boy,
His sidelocks dancing merrily in the wind,
Parts reluctantly from his treehouse
And makes his way into the cosy kitchen,
With an appetite any mother
Would challenge wholeheartedly.
Chubby toddlers have fallen into a sweet, deep sleep,
Dreaming of lovely mischief.
As the wind blows through the tall poplar tree,
Its leaves whistling-rustling softly in sheer delight,
Whispering musical secrets into the crispy air -
The Master, the greatest Painter of all,
Dips His magic paintbrush
Into a rich, velvety, dark blue,
To add the final touches to His beautiful Masterpiece.
And darkness envelopes the deserted streets.
Good night, world. Sleep tight.
And another delightful one by Naomi Bustan
"Mummy, they're coming!" shrieks my three-year-old in
His eyes shining brightly at the prospect
Of viewing his most cherished sight,
By day and by night.
His sweet little feet dangle outwards to the street.
He is awaiting - with great expectation -
The arrival of his glorified procession.
The roar of the powerful engine can be heard from afar,
Like a thundering shofar.
A cry of admiration escapes his lips,
When he sees his most treasured invention approaching,
Swiftly, towards our direction,
While all traffic trails behind, keeping a protective
All of a sudden, two agile men leap to the pavement.
They are pros, they have no fear,
And their mission is clear.
They grab the containers as my son cheers,
Oblivious to the drivers' coarse and callous sneers.
At last, the merchandise is inside,
But not everyone is satisfied.
The engine roars and leaves behind a trail of dust,
To settle on some desolate cats, whose plans for a royal
Will, for this round, never exist.
The rubbish-truck-fan, my three-year-old, tags at my
His whole being in distress.
And I ponder - So much in this world, Hashem,
Depends on the eyes of the beholder...
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