His poem about an embrace, his
writing on a steel gray morning
in Russia, God's creation.  I
pick up the guitar, play a nigun*
by Carlebach, a wedding tune
a ballad of sorts.  The rain
and steel gray of sky
just like Bialik said
in Ashkenazic Hebrew, permeates
the afternoon, and the sound
of rain against the windows
not like in Tel Aviv
which I have never visited,
not even in dreams
though I did have one
about a rabbi the other night.
She did go to Israel.
I saw her photo there
in the newsletter,
and she asked me, in the dream
questions about my health.
Bialik died in Vienna
being treated for a medical problem.
I don't know much about Bialik
only this poem about the steel gray sky
in Russia, and the one about
an embrace, like two trees
in a solitary world.



*a wordless song to God in Jewish Chassidism