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Thursday, December 22, 2011


Some days my sight is too particulate
Stark and sharp
a million waving green swords
and floods to drown me.

My mind blankens
and I am powerless.

Those are the days
I want to be
lifted up
on the shepherd's

Then, silly me,
I get the view
of quiet waters
and green pastures.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

You Only Gain When You Read to Your Kids

I picked up the paper waiting in the printer; a poem was printed on it and I read the title: “The Road Less Traveled” by Robert Frost. Curiosity and excitement rising within I called out, “Whose poem is this?”

My 14 year-old son replied, “Mine.”

When he came to claim it, I asked him, “Is that for school?”

“Yup,” he replied “we’re doing Poetry Out Loud in class. I have to memorize and perform it.”

Forcing myself to play it cool, I responded with, “Cool!”

I then watched him, through the night, work on memorizing that poem. His teacher had made an audio file of herself performing it and he went everywhere connected to his Ipod headphones; mumbling to himself.

When we were driving home from being out that night he asked the family, “Hey, could we be quiet in the car so I can concentrate on this?” What a refreshing change!

Before bed, he was in his room mumbling away again. I came in talking to him and he jumped up, “Mooooom!! Now I have to start over again!” He was recording himself, working on his performance.

A little later we collided as he came out of his room. “Mom!” he said, “I’ve got it! Can I do it for you?”

“Sure, but come in our room, please.” I answered.

As we headed into our room he was falling all over himself telling me how he could try out for regional’s and if he made that maybe eventually get to state or nationals in the Poetry Out Loud tournaments and maybe win $20,000.00. I hadn’t seen him this excited in a long time.

He calmed himself down and proceeded to perform his piece for his dad and me.

He had done it. In one night he had memorized the poem and was already trying to pause and bring inflections and tone into the way he said it. I was so excited; I was having a hard time remaining calm – then he did something that just about blew my coolness cover.

After we applauded his performance I went right over to my desk and picked up my book of Robert Frost poems. “Look, Hon,” I invited.

He took the book and said – in the way only teenagers can that I was so not getting it– “I know Mom! You read it to me when I was little and I remembered liking it so I asked to perform it.”


My work is done.

I have nothing more to say, except that my life is complete and your time is never wasted when you read to your kids.

Tuesday, December 06, 2011

To Have Time

I can not breathe
for the sheer
permission of
my life.

My life --
that which I --
live in
speak in
breathe in

At this moment
warming green tea
in hand
as I look out
at coldly blue skies
with softly dancing
down snow.

Snow. that my
daughter and I
walked among
this morning
to school

listening to her thoughts
random and swirling
softly dancing

And then,

The Good-bye

A clasping of intensity
A wishing to remain


And her brave
straight back
as she continued
through the snow

alone -- without me

into the building.

And I can not breathe
choked by gratitude
to be there
and an ache
for her small
determined bravery.

I see it, love,
I see it.