Following
The line
In search of
Sustenance
We entered
Honey Honey Cafe
Constant hum
Of workers
Buzzing
Behind
The counter
May I help you?
Yes, I
Would like
Pancakes
With
Strawberries
Words stuck
Between
My ears
Sluggish
Exiting my mouth
Excuse me?
Pancakes
And
Strawberries
We sit quietly
In the center
Of this hive
Observers
Partakers
Gathering
Sweet fuel
Before following
The line back
Out the door
Into the city
Gentle ferns
Brightest green
Soft clover
Delicate
White lines
A perfect carpet
For majestic
Residents
Red trunks
Growing
Standing
For hundreds
Of years
Though roots
Are shallow
Strength comes
When each
Intertwines
With the next
Building
A foundation
Stretching
From carpeted floor
Rising
Thru drifting fog
Reaching
Toward the sun-
Enter quietly
Muir Woods National Monument Mill Valley, CA 💚
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
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
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
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
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.
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I stood
At the foot
Of a grave
Shaded by
Lovely birch
On a rolling
Green slope
Overseen by
A church
Painted white
Filled with
History on
Both sides
Of glass panes-
I stood
At the foot
Of a grave
Cradling remains
Of those gone
From this earth
Centuries ago
Memories
Carved
In marble
Beloved
Daughter, wife, mother
Honored
Son, husband, father
I stood
At the grave
Of a poet
My heart touched
By remembrances
Of persons
I have never met
I am the first to admit I can be a little prim and proper regarding dirt and sweat. I have fun memories of playing in the mud as a kid. Didn’t bother me then.
Yesterday, I suggested we go by flowers to plant in our front bed. My husband agreed. But guess what? They don’t transplant themselves.
My job was taking the plants out of the pots, breaking up the soil, and carefully placing them in their new home. My hands got dirty. Black, rich soil even managed to get under my fingernails.
Before you pat me on the back, this was a short project. Only a little dirt and sweat. 😉 The results? Definitely worth getting a little dirt on my hands.
Wood neatly stacked
Chilly night air
The lighting
Of the fire
Perfection
First warms
My hands
Then turns
Into a game
Stand with
My backside
As close
As possible
To the flames
As long
As possible
Before running
Back to my seat
Feel the warmth
Spreading thru
My entire body
As I quickly
Sit down-
Content
Gazing
At the flames
A single spark
Catches my eye
I watch until
It disappears
Into the night sky
When sleep comes
I think about
The brevity
Of this life-
Each single spark
Glowing until
It disappears
Piano Girl 