The water, spring-arctic,
closes over my head.
I want to fly,
a Chagall angel soaring
to a round, yellow sun
painted warm.
Skimming the
arboreal autumnal ruff
encircling the lake,
I see
black-clad sisters strolling,
my rabbi, listening,
baby and sweetheart in the car,
waiting.
Hanging up my wings,
returning to the lake,
three times I submerge,
Feeling the cold
entering my private spaces.
I am one with the lake.
Enrobing myself in
stubbornness,
three times I burst forth,
shouting the blessing
through chattering teeth.
Shivering, I emerge,
wrapping up in my robe,
escaping to heat in the car,
immersing myself in
the warm love of family.
I am still me,
now forever
a Jew.
