Oh the Egg
about mostly my (first) mother-in-lawOh the egg (an elegy for Zipporah) O the egg -- endless image of the hard-boiled egg, all it was meant to stand for: like the cyclic forever-wedding rings, rebirth and springtime -- kindly expounded by the woman, the rabbi standing in for my husband's mother in the dining room where I missed her most just off the kitchen cramped with strangers' gifts at the shivah, her place vacant. ----- But still for me zipping around...