Simply Sunday

Transformation

Look at you
Standing there
Confidently
Exposed
Pieces of your
Outer shell
Left shimmering
In the light
Gentle reminder
Of what was
Before
The release
Of all that
Was heavy
Smiling at
Passersby
No longer
Concerned
With hiding
What is
Underneath
Instead
Baring a gift
Story of
Transformation-
Beauty may
Only be
Skin deep
But love
And truth
Grace your roots

Driving to the hospital this morning, I couldn’t help noticing the trees. Colors are still beautiful, though beginning to fade.  A birch tree caught my eye.  Only a few of its yellow leaves remained.  As the leaves fluttered, I smiled. Look at you! 😊

My dad has been diagnosed with congestive heart failure.  I had heard this term but now have a better understanding.  It does not happen overnight. And though treatable, it does not go away. He is breathing easier and hence feeling better.  Doctors are working on a treatment plan which hopefully includes going home soon. 

Not having a definite timeline is frustrating.  But that is ok.  Life is precious.  And I continue to be thankful for our time together. ❤️

Woo Pig From the Eighth Floor

Here we are again. Not sure I know anyone who likes hospitals. Some display more adverse reactions than others, I suppose. But when medical care is needed, I am thankful for their existence.

My dad had open-heart surgery eight months ago. During those scary moments of the unknown, doctors and nurses were caring for him. Giving value to his life, even though they did not know him personally.

He is back in the hospital. Difficulty breathing led to the discovery of fluid in his lungs. No complete answers yet, but there is comfort in the familiar. Walking the same halls. Experiencing the same level of care.

No, it’s not where any of us would choose to be on this sunny Saturday. But I am grateful. Sitting here, talking to my dad. Excited to watch Razorback football with him this afternoon. Even if it is from his eighth-floor room at the hospital. Woo Pig Soooie!

Precious Boy

Nothing compares with the contagious laughter of a child. The kind that brings tears because it can’t be stopped. One of my first-grade friends recently demonstrated this phenomenon.

He is always smiling. When I see him in the hallway, in the music room, getting in the car with his mom to go home. Such a sweet boy.

Those with an honest laugh also have a sincere cry…

Today in music class, students sang a song about Thanksgiving. I then asked, What are you thankful for? Such sweet answers. My family, friends, brother, sister, grandma, and on and on. Almost all of them mentioned a family member.

This friend was no exception. He said he was thankful for his mom. I immediately pictured him running to his car every afternoon. Always wearing that big smile.

We ended class by watching and listening to a song about Thanksgiving. I wouldn’t say it is a sad song, but sweet. When the song ended, I teased the class.

You guys haven’t asked me what I’m thankful for!

What are you thankful for, Mrs. Morris?

You guys!

I followed this with a comment about their sweet smiles. And then I mentioned my one friend’s contagious smile and laugh. It was time to line up. I noticed he had a funny look on his face, eyes downcast. So, I asked what was wrong.

Tears began to flow. While the others lined up, I knelt to talk with him.

My sister died. When she was little.

Oh, honey, I am so sorry.

I told him how special it was that he remembered her in his heart.

Precious boy. I will not soon forget his laughter or his tears. ❤️

Protected

Morning fog
A welcomed
Sight
Matched
My fuzzy
Thoughts
Squinting
Into the mist
My eyes
Spotted
Tiny deer
Grazing
In a field
Unphased
Maybe
They felt
Protected
By this
Temporary
Blanket
Knowing from
Experience
Sunlight
Would
Eventually
Burn away
The haze

Photo by Ben Jessop on Pexels.com

Disclosure

Yesterday
My steps
Were heavy
Even the ones
Taking me
Where
I wanted
To go
Precious feet
Walked beside
In the sunlight
Of a clear
Fall day
Splashes
Of color
Painting
Our paths
Until the light
Slipped away
And heaviness
Completely
Draped
Demanding
To be named
Before sleep
Could come-
Now morning,
Fragments
Remain-
But I smile
At the beautiful
Pink sunrise

I have not written about depression lately. But honesty is my goal. And sometimes, admitting how I feel is the first step to feeling better. I love the fall colors and cooler temps. But when sunsets come earlier and cloudy days are multiplied, struggle sets in.

I am thankful for friends and family who understand and remind me it is ok.

The photo was actually taken a year ago. Matched today perfectly.

Left Walking

Walking
Hand in hand
First day
To last
One often
Seen as
Enemy
Of the other
Giver vs. taker-
Picture them
Working
Together
One aiding
The body
Along its path
The other
Waiting
To embrace
Spirit, once
The temporary
Gives out
Death
A part of
Life
Not determiner
Of its end-
This journey
Shares its
Insight-
Those
Left walking
Walk with broken hearts

Thinking of all those grieving the loss of someone close.

Two Poem Tuesday

Almost Asleep

There’s
A span
Of time
Between
Awake and
Asleep
Where hazy
Melodies
Slow to
A gentle
Tempo
I wonder
How many
Measures
This space
Is capable
Of holding?

Trying to
Keep count
I am sadly
Awakened
Sleep evading
Allowing
The lullaby
To wash over
I am sweetly
Carried
To slumber
Melody
Forgotten
A mystery
Left for
Dreaming

Daylight Savings?

Time change?
How is that
Possible?
An enigma
At best
Lose an hour
Gain an hour
Tomorrow
Arrives the same
Sleep comes
No faster
Rest feels
No sweeter
At least not
From this
Sleepyhead
…until
My morning
Drive to work
Was no longer
Shrouded
In darkness
Instead,
A pretty
Pink sunrise

The word of the day, or the week, is sleep. It feels like I cannot get enough. It’s funny how gaining an extra hour makes me feel so tired. 😉

Tug of War

Parading around
In costumes
Recognizable
Masks
Distracting me
From the struggle
Taking root
In my soul
Feelings
Can be sneaky
That way

Tricksters thriving
On energy
Expended in a
Tug of War
That leaves
Me trying
To pull the rope
From both ends
There will never
Be a winner
Only the need
To let go
Of the rope
Even if
It means
Falling
In the mud

I often talk about poetry being therapeutic. This poem is a perfect example. It did not provide answers to the questions on my mind. However, writing the words down provided some tension relief. It also reminded me I don’t have to have all the answers right at this moment. Maybe you can relate. ☺️

Questions and Answers

Opening doors
Requires
Asking questions
Whether seeking
Knowledge
Creativity
Relationships-
Some we ask
Almost every day
How are you?
What’s wrong?
What do you think?
How does that work?

Listening
For answers
Is the key
I pride myself
On being
A good listener
Discovering that
Some questions
No matter
How many times
I ask them

Have no answers-
My youngest son
Turns twenty-one
Tomorrow-
Where has the time gone?

Happy Birthday, Ryan! ❤️

Scenes from School

Scene One

Fifth-grade girl: Mrs. Morris, I am going to bring you some poems I wrote. They are about love.

Me: (Reading her poems.) She’s right. Love is unpredictable. 😉

Scene Two

Fourth-grade girl walking to the library to return her book. I notice that the book she is holding is my book.
She smiled. “It’s a good book, Mrs. Morris.”

We snapped a cute picture. She made my day!

Scene Three

Kindergarten student: Mrs. Morris, we are coming to see you tomorrow! You better be prepared!

Scene Four

Students drew pictures while listening to a Mozart piano concerto. Here are a few of my favorites from fifth grade. ❤️

Teaching is hard work. This week had its challenges. But I am choosing to focus on the ones that made me smile.