Morning Thoughts

Leaving for work
This morning
Car packed for
A weekend
Road trip
Thoughts already
At the end of today
Think I’ll send
A text to Mom
See you tonight!

Little cardinal
Crosses my path
His brightness
Could not
Be ignored
His fluffy
Red feathers
Taking off
From the ground
Made me smile
Slow down as
I drove out of
The neighborhood
Rachel says every time
She sees a cardinal
It reminds her
Of her Papa

Mingling

Gentle breeze
Across my face
Carries hope
For a new day
Lately my mind
Has been stormy
Unable to focus
Thoughts jumping
From one to
The other like
Lightning bolts
On the horizon-And yet,
The storm passed
With a quiet word
A gentle embrace-
Reassurance from
Your presence
Mingling with
The breeze-
Kissing away my fears

Perfect Frame

Head Back
Looking up
Patches of blue
Splashes of white
Visible thru the
Rectangular grid
A work of art
Ever-changing
As the wind
Rustles leaves
In my periphery
Then gently
Cools my face
Music flows
From speakers
Perfectly placed
Behind my head
I listen-looking
Again, at the grid
Then close my eyes
A negative of the
Image remains
Imprinted on
The insides of
My eyelids
Smiling, my foot
Quietly taps along
With the beat
Chair rocks
Back and forth
Every muscle relaxes
Underneath this
Perfect frame
I open my eyes
Once again to
The changing view

Holding My Breath

An absolute
Necessity
Without it
My days
Are done
And yet
Once you
Came along
I learned
A new way
Of holding it-
Not the way
Of childhood
Mad jumping
Up and down
Cheeks puffed
Face turning blue
No-this holding
Was different-
Unable to sleep
Tiptoeing into
Your room
Late at night
Staring into
The darkness
Careful not
To breathe
Until I could see
Your tiny chest
Steadily rising
Up and down
Making sure
You were
Breathing

My kids are grown, but I remember those moments vividly. Sneaking into their rooms to make sure they were still breathing. And although those days are long gone, there are still times when I hold my breath for them.
Times when things aren’t quite going their way. Times when their hearts hurt. Times when they have big decisions to make or finals to take. That is the beauty of parenting. I will always be their mom. Happy Mother’s Day!

Pink Petals

Pink flowers
Graced
The bed
Yesterday
Fluttering
In the breeze
As if to say
Isn’t it a lovely day?
Rains came
Winds grew
Now pink petals
Cover the ground
I don’t think
They are sad
Just seeing
The world
From a new
Perspective
Knowing
Their blooms will
Remain in memories
As they fade into dust

I wrote this poem at a recent writing circle with Ali Grimshaw. flashlightbatteries I continue to enjoy this process and the lovely people I’ve gotten to know. 💞

Stargazing

Lying on my back
In the driveway
At midnight-the stars
Were too many to count
Nothing to obscure
Their brightness

Sitting cross-legged
In the bed of a truck
Mountains rising above
Even more stars in the sky-
How could that be
With less sky to see?

Sitting quietly
In my backyard
Relaxing by the fire
Only a few of
The brightest stars
Remain visible

I know the others
Are still present
But their light
Has been dimmed
By the light of men
Even though it pales in comparison

Lost in Thought

I was a little grumpy when I got home yesterday. The reasons don’t matter. But any little thing seemed to grate on my nerves. As my frustration rose, I suddenly had a thought. Why don’t you go to the other room and play your piano?

I don’t know why this solution doesn’t appear faster in my brain.

Sitting down at the piano, I opened one of my favorites, Schumann’s Scenes from Childhood, a beautiful set of short pieces. The first few I played didn’t fit my mood. Then I landed on Reverie. Just what I needed.

After playing it several times, I became curious about the original German title-Träumerei. Reverie is the translation in my edition, and I wanted to make sure my ideas matched the original intent. One definition said, “pleasant reveries, daydreams.”

I got lost in my thoughts, listened to myself play, then wrote this poem. I felt much better. 🙂

Reverie

Staring out
The window
Dreaming of
Sunny days
Even though
Today is gray
Running free
Through a
Golden field
Of sunflowers
Rolling
Without
Reserve
Down a
Grassy hill
Walking
Innocently
Hand in hand
Along a dirt road
Daydreaming-
Time well spent
Lost in thoughts
Energy renewed
Before heading
Back to the now

Reverie from Scenes from Childhood by Schumann Kelley Morris, piano

Simply Sunday

Blinds

Drip-drops
Outside
My window
Faint
Steady
Green tree
Divided
By lines
A puzzle
Not wholly
Visible
Yet, complete-
Gray sky
Broken into
Rectangular
Sections
Interesting
But not enough
To lift the
Gray mood-
Happiness
Found in
Pink flowers
Watered by
The rhythm
Of the rain
Peaking
Between
The slats

A beautiful thing about Spring-even on the rainy days, colors are blooming outside. We simply have to look out the window. 🌸🌺

Dream Keepers

Children are the keepers of dreams
Their imaginations
Opened wide
With hope for
A bright tomorrow
Children are the keepers of dreams
Their imaginations
Dashed, stunted
If not acknowledged
If not encouraged
Children are the keepers of dreams
If only we would listen
And remember what it’s like
To fly to the moon
While swinging on a swing

I was excited to share this poem with my colleagues. My hope was to give encouragement for this final push of the school year. It was a reminder for me to take a step back and focus on my students. Make sure these last weeks of school are fun and memorable…even though we are all a bit tired.

The day I shared the poem ended up being the most difficult. It started out great and quickly descended into hot mess status. Me, the kids, my hair…the air was heavy and thick with hot-mess humidity.

And still, the words I had written the night before remained true. Children are the keepers of dreams. I was reminded as a fourth-grade girl brought me her poems to read for the second day in a row! And again, when a sweet first-grader told me she really liked my hair. (It was possibly my worst bad hair day ever.)

Maybe I need to get outside this weekend. Breathe in the fresh air. Go to the park and swing on the swings. And remember, it is my job to be an encourager of those precious imaginations., even on hot-mess days. 😉

Washed Away

It fell so hard
From the sky
I thought surely
It couldn’t be rain

Not frightening
Yet, deafening
No pauses
No discernable rhythm

A wall of sound
Capable of washing
Away more than
The dirt of the day

Fears and worries
Sadness, regrets
Were no match
For its cleansing

Washed away
Along with the
Remaining debris
Of a difficult season

A damp sidewalk
And peaceful silence
The only remains
Of the downpour