Today, on Poetry Friday, I want to celebrate the poet Jack Prelutsky. I own several of his holiday poem books, gifted to me by my mom who used them for years in her third grade classroom. Subsequently, I used them for years for my third grade writer’s circle. Jack Jack Prelutsky is an American born…
My Quilt The quilt I made had some mistakes, I tried to cover them up and still have it not look fake. A new project for this weird, weird time, kept me going and turned out sublime. The cover now recalls a trip or more, to places that could never, ever bore. Our National Parks,…
Between your walls all those years ago. What was it like? Were you cold in the winter or did your fire keep you warm? Trees from the woods made your walls. Old oaks from a savanna that is no more, now covered with buckthorn galore. We know their age from counting their rings, the trees…
Welcome to Poetry Friday. My poem today, October Rain, was inspired by the weird weather we experienced yesterday in West Central Wisconsin. Sunny, stormy, rainy, along with tiny hailstones, and a rainbow mixed in, the weather – with all its rapid flux – left me inspired! I wrote about this not only today, but yesterday…
Autumn leaves, one of nature’s great gifts. A given gift without the task of asking or doing. A gift for the taking, if we choose to look. Brilliant yellows, oranges, and reds glow on this overcast, gray, autumn day from across the fields of corn and soybean. Autumn in the mid-west. So vibrant! Some appear…
A Fondness for Bugs Come along with me on your golden carpet of petals. There you sit so still and full of pride evident you are ready for a ride. Atop a pot glowing with a yellow hue your greenish color blends right in too. Still you stay, for the journey from front yard to…
September 11, 2001 You were in my arms, my baby boy, being rocked to sleep as a five day old needs: warm, sleepy, and safe in your loving human cradle. Daddy at work, a brother at school, and another young brother still asleep in a cozy crib, a routine morning for us in the heartland….
“Country roads take me home, to a place I belong.” (John Denver, 1974???) To a cabin by a small lake, where toads run and blue gill swim, going there is never wrong. “What are we doing in love?” (Kenny Rogers and Dottie West, 1981) Going to meet my love, my love who I’ve missed. Soon…
My poem this week is inspired by all the children returning to school. It is a time of year that I am fond of because of the sense of newness and anticipation for the year ahead. While this year will be a year like no other, I think the sense of anticipation can still be…
Yesterday, falling short of my daily writing goal, I failed to publish my blog. I worked on it, of course, but it failed to come together as I wanted, in part due to time spent looking for my own photos to share on the post. This morning I was able to finish it. I wrote…