Here is a poem I wrote a long time ago. As I was looking back through my blog I found I had written several times about watching storms with my dad. I also discovered that most times that I wrote about storms, light was there, too.
Tonight storms are rolling in
I hear the rumble coming closer
Raindrops begin to beat the roof
I stand on the porch with Dad
We watch the dark clouds
Lightning cracks the sky open
I face storms in life
Cleansing rains come
And streaks of light
I will remember
Here is another “stormy” poem from a long time ago:
Little Brown Bird
A little brown bird So tiny, Spied on a long black utility wire, An expanse of forbidding dark gray sky Behind
The little brown bird Strutted Across the wire, tail bobbing up and down His beak wide open, chirping Loudly
That little brown bird Continued Singing his cheerful song Even as fat drops of rain began falling Suddenly
One little brown bird Seemed Like a herald of hope spreading a message- Though storms come, believe our world will Endure
It was a long difficult week at school last week after the sudden death of one of our colleagues. We began the week with a crisis team at school with us for two days. By midweek, we had details about the funeral. It was held on Sunday.
Our principal spoke and shared memories from the staff. She concluded with a note from one of our students (a fifth grader). This teacher was married to another teacher at our school. They had been married only a year and a half. The student said “when we would be in the hall and he saw her, his eyes would turn into a heart.” It really was true, so much changed in him and he was a much happier person in the last few years.
The pastor who gave the message used notes from our teacher’s own study Bible. He shared verses that were highlighted and his personal notes. It was amazing. The loss has been difficult, but with the words and tributes of Sunday, healing begins.
How do you find hope?
Do you even know what it is?
Is it the
the thing with
A shimmering thing that
flutters in and perches
Hope alights and
bringing solace without
Hope realized is a hymn and
the faith it awakens never
First draft of Golden Shovel based on Emily Dickinson’s Hope is the Thing with Feathers.
I have been reading tweets for #NationalPoetryMonth on Twitter, and this morning I saw one from Laura Purdie Salas. She is doing equation poems this month- a perfect choice for all of us who are worn down by the pandemic and need something concise to focus our thoughts. If you haven’t heard this form, look for Laura Purdie Salas’ book, Snowman- Cold= Puddle: Spring Equations.
Here is my morning’s equation:
One hour + webinar = ideas to share
I enjoyed a video replay of a Saddleback webinar on writing strategies. I have some good ideas to try and to share.
light like diamonds
across the water
clear skies and
sing perched in tree
branches filled with buds
swoops down and
at guard by the shore
An arun is a fifteen-line poem in three sets of five lines. Each set of five lines follows the same syllable structure: starting with one syllable, increasing by one more syllable in each line.