For Change’s Quake

this day, three years back:
 an unfair observation
 on a testing day.
 
 i thought i was done;
 trying to be good enough
 was just not enough
 
 and now? full circle–
 a grapevine request to see
 my expert teaching
 
 from a district head
 who saw just minutes of us
 (speaking for us all).
 
 now he’s bringing guests
 to show others how it looks
 to teach ELD
 
 (the irony stings
 with my facebook memory–
 a harsh reminder)
 
 but all things must change
 from weak saplings to gold leaves
 that have brought me home
 
 

And Then I Remember

 This. This is why I teach. For three years she’s been in my class. She has gotten married. Had a baby. But she still can’t decode words. She still struggles with basic sentences. I know she has more going on in her mind than Bambara and Mali and motherhood, but I haven’t found a way to reach this girl. I haven’t been able to communicate with her in a way to help her understand. But “reliving” 1880s farm chores today, she said, “I got this. We do this in my country.” And today, today, today, she was the best at something. This. This is #whyiteach
 
 

Falling in Love

autumnal offer:
 a windy, sunny lunch stroll
 in my favorite park
 
 

Seasonal Cat Disorder

a sweet striped tabby
 named Snickers in October
 brings joy to autumn
 
 

Over the Hump

piano serenade while cooking
 and a collegial shout out to the king
 can make a hump day joyful
 in this little life we live
 
 

Stay Gold

from this flight: find light
 carry it twenty years past
 your flight-or-fight life
 
 through the turbulence
 of youth’s wanderlust wonders,
 past career questions,
 
 into the blue sky
 of a healthy tomorrow
 shined by little grins.
 
 find the golden light
 carried by heavenly wings
 that kept you on Earth.
 
 happy fortieth,
 twenty years without cancer,
 and still shining bright.
 
 

Silver Lining Lunch Date

clouds can’t cover blue
 with a reflection like this
 waiting to bathe joy
 
 

Introverted Beauty

a lonely park walk
 can rejuvenate the soul
 (my soul needs flowers)
 
 

Call to Prayer

it isn’t church,
 but a Sunday morning sunshine ride–
 a line of bikes glistening in waning summer heat,
 with shout-outs as loud as a preacher who
 calls his parishioners to God:
 
 Bike up!
 Bike back!
 Slowing!
 Gravel on the path!
 Car up!
 Clear!

 
 the words trickle down the line,
 heated breaths repeating them
 so loud that even prairie dogs
 stand at attention to hear.
 
 and we wrap ourselves
 in blue-sky calorie burning
 led by a fast-paced 78-year-old man,
 just as forgiving for our
 missed turns and flat tires
 as the best of His missionaries.
 
 

Find the Fleeting Light

scaling these cliff walls
 feels easier than your words
 of guilt and judgment
 

 yet, rivers sparkle;
 ancients thrived here, not survived
 (just like you and me)
 

 too much to take in–
 the beauty of history,
 of sights still unseen,
 

 of children’s faces
 as youth clings as fleetingly
 as the setting sun
 

 we are captive here
 in these soft moments of light
 (help me preserve them)