Summer Morning Surprises

Cool summer morning
Pleasant surprise
Family of birds
Playing happily
In a nearby tree
Begins to circle
The sky in flight
Darting up
Dashing down
Dancing together
Like children
In a game of
Ring around the Rosie
Upon their return
To the safety
Of familiar branches
The welcoming tree
Like a wise grandmother
Rocking on the porch
Shakes with laughter
At their homecoming
Knowing they will not
Live with her forever
Especially
The young ones
For soon, they will
Find their own mates
Build their own nests
Perhaps in
A nearby tree
Perhaps not
For now, she accepts
The importance
Of protecting
While preparing
For the day
They fly away
Hopefully
Another lovely
Pleasant surprise
Cool summer morning

Clipping Stitches

A simple
Solitary
Seed
Of doubt
Sewing stitches
Choking roots
Once confident
Threatening
Downward
Spiral
Second-guessing
Simplest decisions
Sense of dread
Starting
In the brain
Slowly shifts
Stomach
Tied in knots
Realization
Anxiety has
Once again
Crept in
Recognizing
Is step one
Clipping stitches
Step two
Freeing roots
To stretch
And grow
Crushing
The doubt
Regaining
Confidence

Whether the tiniest reason or no reason at all, anxiety just shows up some days. Sharing helps. You never know who may be able to relate. Be encouraged. ❤️

Macaroni and Cheese

I like macaroni and cheese. In high school, that and baking a cake were the extent of my cooking. My mom even entered a recipe on my behalf for a church cookbook one year. Not a cake. Oh no, it was the instructions from the back of the Kraft macaroni and cheese box.

My kids also like mac-n-cheese. It was a staple in our house. Of course, I always tried to pair it with broccoli or green beans. Balanced meals, you know.

Some stories need to be remembered. Told over and over. Handed down from one generation to the next. And not just the ones considered to be pleasant. Also, the challenging ones. Those are the ones that show resilience, teaching valuable lessons.

This is one of those stories. And, of course, it involves macaroni and cheese.

My parents have always been hard workers. But like many others, hard work did not always keep hard times at bay. Some years were more difficult than others. And when I was little, money was tight.

My dad was a carpenter and was working on a house about an hour away from our home. One day, mom and I went along for the ride. Well, sort of. You see, he had not yet gotten paid for his work.

Macaroni and cheese…they had one box left. So, we went with him, taking the box along with us. While dad was working, mom cooked the mac-n-cheese on the job site in an electric popcorn popper. That way, all three of us would have something to eat for lunch.

That same day, the woman that owned the property retrieved a frozen chicken from her kitchen. And though my dad was a little uncertain about that chicken, it went home with us that afternoon, along with his paycheck. It was available that day after work.

Perhaps some would think of this as a sad story. Not me. I see the resilience of two people, able to keep going, making the best out of a difficult situation.

Anytime we talk about this time in our lives, Mom always reassures me. “No matter how hard things got, we always made sure you did not go without. You always had what you needed.” Without a doubt. ❤️

Truth is, not only did we survive as a family, but we also thrived! And though my cooking skills have improved a little, I still like macaroni and cheese.

Simply Sunday

Summer Night

I can feel it
In my bones
Sense it
Slowly
Approaching
Though still
Far away
Tensions
Being to rise
Along with
The growing
Bank of darkness
What to do?
Not a matter
Of if but when
It will arrive
Do I make
Preparations
For something
Over which
I have no control
Or do I sit still
Breathing
Watching
Praying
Welcoming
With open arms
Lessons sure
To be left behind
Once the storm passes

Favorite Songs

No memories
Of my own
With which
To compare
Only descriptions
Heard in
Favorite songs
Until now…
Driving thru
Stockbridge
Lennox, Lee
Witnessing
The greens
Shining
Dreamlike
In the Berkshires
Quaint towns
Connected by
Winding roads
Surrounded by
Rolling hills
Under blue skies
And moonlight-
Each one holding
Its own history
Of joy and pain
Both personal
And collective-
Places once alive
Only in songs
Now alive anew
As music and
Snapshots are
Forever forged
In my mind

Nature’s Tempo

A raindrop
Landed on
My windshield
With a bounce
Becoming one
Small bubble
In its own space
Until another
And another
And another
Came along
To invade-
Soon the glass
Was covered in
Raindrop bubbles-
The tempo
Of the car
The tempo
Of the rain
Increased-
Gravity said
Rain falls down
From the sky
But the droplets
Seemed to be
Traveling
The wrong
Direction
Rows and rows
Of raindrops
Flowing up
My windshield-
Optical illusion?
Possibly
Vivid imagination?
Could be
Or perhaps simply
Nature’s music
Ever-changing
With the rhythm
Of this life

Young Poets

Although I am their music teacher, many of my students are aware I write poetry. Last year, fourth graders had a unit on poetry. I shared some of my poems with their teachers to use however they liked. The connections that occurred were precious.

Students began to ask about my book that was being published. Wanting to know if they would be able to buy it at the book fair. 😉 I assured them there would be copies in the library to check out. They were so excited! I would give each of them a copy if I could.

One day after school, a fourth-grade girl handed me a stack of small notepaper. She had been writing poems and wanted to share! Another day in music, one of her classmates, a boy, shyly handed me a folded piece of paper. “Here are some poems I wrote.” He quickly walked away.

Over the following weeks, I had several conversations with these two young poets. They eagerly shared their writing, and I happily celebrated them.

One of the students traveled to Mexico before the school year ended. I hope she will return next year. The other is transferring to a new school. Brief but powerful connections for me, and I hope for them.

I asked permission to share one of the poems. This young man is confidently referring to himself as a poet now. No more hiding. It is a beautiful thing.

green is for happiness
which means that
trees have happiness
within the leaves
another green that gives
good vibes is grass
that swerves with the breeze

I don’t know about you, but I was impressed! I am going to miss this young man next year. I hope he keeps writing.

Check out my first poetry collection! Available at the following links.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B095DRCXNH/ref=cm_sw_em_r_mt_dp_10SVGW2ZKGD56QHABRXV

https://pottersgrovepress.com/product/if-i-were-made-of-glass/

Independence Day

Freedom-
A word
So often
Spoken
From a singular
Perspective-
Me, myself, and I
Surely that view
Is much too
Simplistic
Lacking in
Both depth
And breadth-
If being honest
I must admit
Freedom
Remains
Incomplete
Until it applies
To everyone
Everywhere-
Celebrating
Independence Day
Acknowledging
Many lessons
Yet to be learned…

Two Poems

Elbows and Knees

I cried at the sight
Of you frail
Unaware of
My presence-
Chose to remember
Different images
On that day-
Tall and lanky
Uncanny ability
To sit comfortably
On your haunches
Elbows perched
On knees
Backside inches
From the ground-
My college senior
Piano recital
Me in my black dress
You in your blue
Cotton shirt and pants
Both beaming-
Five years later
Christmastime
My newborn son
Sleeping in your arms-
After you were gone
I saw your reflection
As my son sat
On his haunches
Elbows perched
On knees
Backside inches
From the ground-
Pictures of you
Held dear,
Grandpa

Workshirt

The morning
Is dark blue
The kind of blue
That almost
Looks black
But once
The sun rises
Turns to cerulean-
As the day
Progresses
The sky shifts
Until night washes
Over the work
Of the day
Bringing rest
To the Earth-
And rest to you
Handsome you
Strong you
Wearing your
Favorite blue shirt
Faded with time
As the dirt
And sweat
From a lifetime
Of hard work
Was washed away

I wrote the first poem specifically about my Grandpa Crow. He was a sweet man. Hardworking and loved to fish. The second could describe many different people from my growing up years. Maybe you can relate. 😊❤️

Remain Seated

The clock ticks
One second
At a time
The sun shines
One beam
At a time
And yet, with love
One second
Quickly becomes
One thousand
One sunbeam
A multitude
Flooding
Darkness
From the heart
As two sit
Together
In this space
Of time and light
Giving no thought
To the ticking clock
Or the sun’s rays
Only the desire
To remain seated
And experience
The transformation
From the measured
To the unmeasurable