Teardrops of Autumn

by Milka Benziman

The sights, sounds and smells herald winter's approach in the cool
night breeze. The red sunset surrounds the changing landscape as the
universe pulses forward in time. Chana's son says in his excitement
and to his mother's dismay, "I need boots!"

Sitting here in my office Chana's teardrops of autumn fall from her
eyes. "Do you know what my children told me when they came home from
school today? The teacher taught them the prayer for rain. But they
told me that they are praying that winter won't come this year. They
don’t have coats, and they don’t want to wear the old patched sweaters
another season. With the electricity shut off we have no way to heat
the apartment, and we still haven't fixed the leak in the roof that
fills our living room with buckets of water. Of course they don't want
winter to come." Chana whisper through her tears.

When I left the office I lifted my eyes. My silent prayer blended with
a raven's crow. "Please, let Chana's children and thousands of others
like them not suffer from the cold this winter..."

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