sometimes the wrong words
are just the fire i need
to try for kindness
Apology
sometimes the wrong words
are just the fire i need
to try for kindness
poetry
My Gym Today
city officials planned my afternoon,
marking a triangular pink line
ready for tomorrow’s slaughter
(for an inclusive world)
the girls and i set to work,
abandoned wagon in tow,
trip after trip filled with rocks and rhubarb
ready to be salvaged
in neat lines we laid our stones,
replanted our ripe-ready fruit,
made easy plans for controlling mulch
and baking tart spring pies
the girls ran off with new neighbors
(one stayed behind to lend muscle and wheelbarrow)
and my workout was taken over
by heavy lifting and a dream house
Sprung Upon
a single email
can spring up late Friday tears
i’ve been holding in
friendship’s mystery
lies in glad discoveries
so easily lost
my heart aches and blooms
for all that i have… and don’t
(that’s how petals fall)
Behind the Classroom Door
what seems like brightness
is a trick to bring more heat
to this hot classroom
what a way to start–
climb on toes, on stool, on desk
to shut those damn blinds
just one sacrifice
like the hundreds daily made
by every teacher
(and who designed these??
thirteen-foot-high hell windows,
bastards of the sun?)
this is my Wednesday:
rise before dawn to face light
i’d rather not see
Pluck the Season
first harvest now reaped
just in time for spring planting
and a spinach dip
Naughty Cat
a soiled morning
sprinkled with Monday chaos
at every corner
Happy Mother’s Day
caught in the stream bed
three beautiful growing girls
who made me a mom
Refocus
when you’re trapped by gloom
and unable to say why
refocus your lens
you might catch a glimpse
of golden sunlit peaks;
a stand-alone tree
spring rain bringing food
(hidden in these rays, raindrops)
to a front range ranch
refocus your lens–
windows will open your eyes
to a clearer view
Awake at 5:00 a.m.
sometimes exhaustion
disrupted by weeklong pain
can bring fresh beauty
Differentiation
some write, some listen
some read, some dance, and some talk
(yet they’re all learning)
a perfect mix of
our differentiation:
(managed/mismanaged)
i’ve learned to let go
thirteen years into teaching
and let them lead me
