a teacher’s drive-by:
surprise observation day
(six times a school year)
always on my toes
bending them close to standards
they’ll never quite meet
but we can all hope
(miracles do still happen–
just ask my cat’s tail!)
stress
Tuesday, Taught
the kid argument
that plagues my mornings and nights
chips away my soul
Bites and Pieces
somewhere between the data crunch
that swallows all planning time,
the tech issues that chew up a third of every class,
the common planning that gnaws into bitching about work,
emailing counsellors about kids who’ve bitten off more than they can chew,
grading grammar that nibbles away time with my own kids…
there’s a teacher waiting,
the entrée of this piecemeal,
ready to share the most delectable taste
of what this world asks and offers.
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)
Rediscovering Respect
after a long walk
sun silences the screaming
ringing in my ears
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)
Lost and Found
you couldn’t steal this:
ancient homes, history learned,
survivors by cliff
or these sweet faces
of my three girls, unafraid
to face your world
no, you can’t take that;
my identity’s in words
found here. not with you.
Day Fifteen, Road Trip 2016
everyone wins today
with sleeping in and reading books
and me fitting in a bike ride
on the way to the movies
(coastal views, zero elevation,
heat seeping through my new
jersey in a rushed attempt to
meet the time schedule)
and yet it hovers.
my vacation.
my vacation with friendly family,
getting-along-quite-well girls,
ocean views and coral reefs
and the best lake swimming there is
and …
no happy hour.
pedaling across those bridges,
sweating steps in Savannah,
making it through another day,
a blessed, lucky day on this earth…
and no drink to top it off,
to melt the anxiety that comes
with upcoming controversial family,
the stress that will be DC in July,
seeing my father-in-law slowly lose his mind;
no drink to bring brighter to life
the constancy of waves,
to further open my mouth for all
the thoughts i’m dying to share,
(to pour onto the page);
no drink to further relax my toes
into this cushion of sand,
my sore muscles into the clutch of alcohol,
my mind from the weight of the world.
and i say it again and again:
There’s always a reason…
and even on the perfect day,
the life’s a beach dream vacation day,
it. is. still. hard.
it is why i pedal.
why i write.
why i drive 6000 miles.
why i watch waves.
because the need to escape is real.
in all of us, no matter how picture-perfect our lives appear,
it is as real as this view, this beach, these toes.
but i made it.
i made it through another day.
and this poem is my happy hour.
Battle Cry
sometimes the best words
remain trapped behind the view
of silent cycling
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