Zeidy’s Gift

I can still picture it now, thirty-something-years later,

The most beautiful sukkah in the world:

Coarse greenery over our heads (it fell into our soup),

Shiny paper stars glittering on the walls (shteren, we called them),

And the walls themselves: a striking shade of pink.

This was my sukkah, I knew then, the first time I saw it

(I was maybe three)

Made by my Zeidy just for me.

I tried picturing him back then (though I never witnessed this in action),

His deft strokes and careful concentration,

A brief departure from the holy books on his desk,

So he could turn a plain wooden sukkah into something magical .

And magic it was.

It still is.

Because just picturing it in my mind’s eye

Brings me back to the wonder, the awe,

To the love and enchantment contained

Within those four pink walls.