Simply Sunday

Yet to Know

For all the hurrying
To complete
The next task
Reach the next
Milestone
I am finding peace
In the unfinished
Relief in knowing
There is more
To become
Simple changes
In the day to day
Or transformation
Across the years
A me anyone has yet to know…
Hopefully, one who is
A bit wiser, one
Who remembers
To slow down
So as not to miss
Even the singular
Steps of growth
Requiring
The most faith
Revealing
The simplest joys

Student Teacher

Tiny hands
Gently curled
On piano keys
Were my hands ever that small?
Sitting tall
At the piano
Feet dangling
Was that ever my experience?
Sweetest voice
Singing along
With each new note
Wonder if I ever did that?
Biggest smile
An excitement
Almost tangible
Now that I remember
Thank you, little one
For filling in those
Missing memories
From my first piano lesson

Circle Poems

Not So Obvious

Where am I?
Sitting here
With my feet
Firmly planted
On the floor
Well, that is
The obvious answer
But what about
Those answers
That won’t come
So easily
Answers that lead
Down a path
Holding only
More questions-
How is it a single detour
On today’s path
Can feel like a failure
Sucking the air from
All the colorful balloons
Filled throughout the day
Rising to the top
Leaving behind
Contented smiles-
If only I could
Erase the sound
Of the needle
Popping the one balloon
Not released with joy-
Maybe tomorrow…

Confident Cloud

This morning
I noticed sunlight
Finding its way
Thru layers
Of clouds-
Some clouds
Seemed to bask
In the light
Almost disappearing
While others remained
Dark and gloomy
Allowing only
A few rays
To lightly lay
Across their gray-
Oh, to be the cloud
Completely open
To the sun’s warmth
Boring a hole
Right thru its center
Confident it is now
Ready to face
Whatever storm
May lie ahead

I continue to be encouraged by and grateful for the writing circle. ❤️ If you are interested, check out https://flashlightbatteries.blog/

Writing Circles

Sharing two poems today that I wrote in a recent poetry circle with Ali Grimshaw. If this is something you’ve considered participating in, check out her website. I continue to be amazed at the process and thankful for the connections. ❤️ https://flashlightbatteries.blog/

Hold the Door!

The same door
Same hallway
Same faces, mostly
Day in, day out
Oh, it’s a fine door
Bright hallway
Smiling faces, mostly
What would happen if I changed my entrance?
No, not a different door
Just held this door
For someone else
Walked that hallway
With intention
Bravely met all
Those faces
Not just with a smile
But with me
Whatever me happens
To show up that day-
Honest, unafraid
My heart open
Ready to receive
Ready to be received

Circles of Change

Thought I was walking
Down a new path
Confident change
Was preparing
To peak out from
Around the corner
At any minute
Any corner…
Any day now…
But it remained
Hidden-not ready
To show its face
Maybe I had been
Walking around
In a circle
Seems I am back
Where I started
Or perhaps
That magnetic
Starting line
Loosened its grip
Just a bit
Before gently
Pulling me back
Tugging at my heart
Allowing time to grasp
A new perspective-
After all, life’s
Biggest changes
Are often felt, not seen

Self-Check Lane

Decided to give http://lindaghill.com/ weekly SoCS writing prompt a go! This week’s prompt was bagged. Fun!

He bagged groceries most of his life. Found satisfaction in the routine.

It was like a new puzzle with each order. Everything had its place. Heavy cans were double bagged. Bread and eggs are always on top.

The smiles were nice, too. Most people seemed to appreciate the care taken with their chosen items. After all, these were the things intended to provide sustenance, and energy needed to fulfill their specific jobs.

Yes, their jobs may have been seen as more important than bagging groceries. That didn’t matter, not to him. He took pride in those bagged groceries.

Only one thing made him sad. That was the day the owner installed their first self-check lane…

Pulling Weeds

Some are deceiving
Masquerading
As another one
Of the flowers
Hiding their roots
Amongst the foliage
Of otherwise
Healthy plants
And once unable
To contain
Their original intent
Begin showing
Tiny glimpses
Of green
Peeking through
In an attempt
To steal sunlight
From the buds
Preparing to open
Tricky they are
These weeds
Precision is required
To squash any
Irreparable damage
They might cause
It’s hard work
Pulling them out
By their roots
But only after
The labor is done
Will the heart
Be able to heal
And love bloom

Any guesses as to what I did this morning? I have no green thumb, but I enjoy the flowers in our front flowerbed. So, this morning I decided to pull weeds and do some trimming. Whew! What a job!

It seemed like each time I pulled weeds from an area, more would appear. And certain ones, well, their roots were strong. I’m not sure I got them all. Truthfully, I know I didn’t. But it did make me think about my heart.

It is easy to allow weeds to get in, tying me in knots. Wrapping around the good, trying to stifle it with confusion, anger, or impatience. A simple reminder to keep doing the hard work. And then stand back and enjoy the flowers. 🌸

Cushioned Steps

Each careful step
Across the floor
Cushioned by
Layers of history
What was once alive
Now protects as it
Deteriorates
Feeding the earth
Lying underneath
How many have
Come and gone
Taken these same steps
Across lines of
Time and space-
Did they notice
The Luna moth
Drying her wings
In frilly foliage
Of gentle ferns
Or the bright orange
Mushrooms
Peeking out from
Underneath
The fern leaves
Were their steps cushioned as well?
Steps that allowed
Time for pause
Time for soaking up
All the forest
Has to say
About the past
The present
And the future

Quick to Dismiss

You and I have
A difference
Of opinion
As far as
Differences
Of opinion go
Since an opinion
Is quite often
Not completely
Based on facts
Perhaps we could
Put this one aside
Yes, it seems
Important now
Emotions heightened
With every discussion
But is it worth dismissing each other?
Flesh and blood
Heart and soul
Isn’t it worth attempting a connection?
If our hands could
Briefly touch
Surely our hearts
Would follow

President Biden spoke last evening concerning the epidemic of gun violence in our country. His words expressed sadness, compassion, and anger. His call to action was passionate as well as logical.

So many lives were lost. Families destroyed. Are we so stuck and stubborn in our thoughts and opinions? Is there no room left for compromise? I refuse to believe that is true.

Trouble?

Have you ever heard someone say-
Trouble? That’s my middle name!

The thought of it
Makes me chuckle
Trouble is a word
I typically avoid
As a teacher

Phrases like
Boy, are you in trouble now!
Or
You are going to be in so much trouble!
Erased from my vocabulary

What is trouble anyway?
A challenge
A hurdle
A test
All capable of imparting
Knowledge and growth
Perhaps a drop of wisdom

Hmmm…maybe I should adopt that mantra
Proudly exclaiming
Who, me? That’s right!
Trouble is my middle name!

Teacher Appreciation Week

Holders of the Future

Schools are failing
Some would like
You to believe
Wisdom says
Otherwise
One only
Needs
To look
To listen
Hundreds of lives
Working together
In community
Not simply teachers
Teaching students
But people, both
Young and old
Connecting on
Common ground
One that seeks
To meet needs
Heal wounds
Tell stories
Solve problems-
So, what are schools?
They are not failures
But holders of the future-
Take a minute
To stop
To look
To listen
Not at the ones
Talking about
Schools
But the ones
Walking inside
Every
Single
Day

As a teacher, listening to political rhetoric can quickly become discouraging. Especially when I truly stop and think about all of the stories. And I am only one of many. So, I only hear some of the many.

I watch as students take home extra food. Listen as concerns are shared among staff. Notice when students receive much-needed services. And this is in addition to the love and care received from their teachers.

Each day there are tears of joy and sadness, screams of excitement and frustration. But isn’t that life? Don’t miss the bigger picture because of the voices attempting to drown it out.

The second poem was written for a recent school volunteer celebration. But it seemed fitting for my teacher friends as well. ❤️

Ready to Bloom

Imagine the
Blooming daffodil
Magically captured
In time-lapse
Photography
Instant joy in
Sunshine yellow
If only you could see
The results
Of your work
In this manner-
Nurturing hands
Thoughtful words
Freely planting
Seeds of confidence
Gently watering
Pulling weeds
Re-planting when
Necessary
Always shining
Your light…
So much light
Tending to
Each new stem
Each new bud
Each precious child
With love and patience
As they emerge
At their own pace
Right alongside you
Ready to bloom