To the Finch at my Window

You clung to the ledge last night

peering into my classroom

beady-eyed and fairy-feathered.

Did you forget the feeder hangs

behind you? Did you think that

eraser crumbs and paper scraps

would satisfy? We often confuse

the sustenance of suet and seeds,

peering past ordinary days,

looking through glass to

greener grass, supposing that the

Maker offers less than the media.

Happy Birthday

One should always celebrate big

for you have no idea how many more

celebrations will be. Celebrate with

a cinnamon roll, a campfire, a walk through

the woods, or a room of friends.

Toss confetti to the sky and count eyebrows.

They may disappear some unfortunate day.

Smell daffodils and drink chamomile. When

you’re waiting for a diagnosis a hundred beautiful

memories is not too many to carry you through those

fateful seconds. Read a poem and write a song. Then

breathe deep and snore long. A good night is

close to the best gift one can be given.

Community

You know how the farmer

drops corn seeds into the dirt

covers them with clods

and waits

with an eye to the sun

and a prayer to the clouds

and then hopes

and watches

for green shoots to tell him

that planting was not in vain,

to remind him that rain will sprout life

from shriveled kernels. At last

a faint green mist covers the field.

The neighbor driving by breathes deeper

and picks up the chalk again

to continue the next math lesson.

Awakening

How do you line the limbs with silent frost

so cold it stops the steps of crocus shoots

who yearn for light. I feel within my dormant

soul a yawn—a wandering for wisdom warm

to break the bands of winter’s clutch, a subtle

movement toward the dawn. As coldness melts

and slides along the walls that fence my fears,

I pray this frost soaks far enough to fissure

frozen veins; that sap may run from root

to canopy and fatten fairer blooms, form

finer fruit to nourish passersby who

stop to stare in wonder at the silver limb.

p.s. sometimes in my technical inabilities I do funny things like accidently hit a trash button. 🙂 So the post is reposted. 🙂

7:17 a.m.

It broke through banked blankets

this Beaten Bar of Gold

burnishing each naked trunk and limb

flooding the far forest with flamingo

fortitude for another frosty day.

The Jackpot

They stood at the door to my class this morning

Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed like usual

But many paused with a fairy wish,

Happy Valentine’s Day. The treasures tumbled

In too; a jar of tulips, a chocolate rose in pink foil,

Two chocolate strawberries, a pastel painted heart

Note, cookies to share at snack time, and valentines,

More cookies iced pink and sprinkled, gummy worms,

Kit Kats, and later there were rainbow heart pencils, sheets of

Scratch and sniff heart stickers. Notebooks for the boys

That read, I chews you. Ah, tousle-headed, freckle-faced,

shiny-finy children—you’re more than I ever asked for.

Addendum

Dear Friends,

Yesterday I posted a piece with a verse about allegations and a co-teacher. I’m regretting my choice of scenario because this raised questions about my co-teachers and I feel utterly terrible to have cast a shadow of a doubt on the people I work with. I’m sorry. These things happen, but I am not in turbulent waters in the midst of it as it may have sounded. December, yes, was a surreal ride as I wondered if my body was cracking on me, but my life has taken a turn of snowy ease and bookish pleasure recently. And each day is a new gift of health and wellness.

I will add two thoughts and stop. God bless the brave warriors who are walking through deep waters. I pray redemption and wholeness for troubled tangled souls.

The end.

I Am

I asked God for a picture the other day, and He said, ‘Here, have a poem.’

I Am

In a world that ebbs and flows

like watercolor pastels

I Am.

When the snow turns to rain

and the rain to ice

I Am.

When the phone call from ocology

shatters your calm on the couch

I Am.

When allegations quit your co-teacher

wrench your right arm out of socket

I Am.

Should the Mississippi convert course

converge on Minnesota or

the San Francisco Bay invert

I Am.

I have been, I will be,

I Am.

In Memoriam

by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

First Grade