Celebrating with Ruth Ayres and others at Discover Play Build. And starting April's poetry month.
Completing the 31 days of slicing for the March Slice of Life Challenge that Ruth and Stacey started so long ago. Now Ruth helps us celebrate!
And, having the grand-girls some hours on Monday, and among other things, enjoying the new "I'm A Girl" by Yasmeen Ismail with them. Plus, a beautiful sunrise seen because I actually rose early enough one morning, and my new doors (both the same) are in, finally, among so many others, great new books donated at the bookstore. Wish you all could come by!
April is #NPM17 - National Poetry Month.
"Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash."
Other things of interest: See the page on the bar above for the Progressive Poem's schedule of poets, hosted by Irene Latham at Live Your Poem. And, if you'd like to see what everyone is doing for Poetry Month, look HERE at Jama Rattigan's post at Jama's Alphabet Soup.
Bridget Magee and her family have started a project in response to the chaos happening in our government. Go HERE to find out about it, to see how you can help!
My goal for Poetry Month: TINY THINGS. My point of view may surprise you, but I'm excited to write, share, and read how everyone writes to meet their special goals for celebrating poetry month.
I know that I won't always choose a tiny thing that's a memory. For some inexplicable reason, this memory appeared when I was brainstorming ideas for tiny things. For most Thanksgivings until I married, I celebrated with huge extended family on my mother's side. This meant the table was filled with many dishes and TWO turkeys. I was used to the jumble of people and clatter of dishes, the crowd of conversation. My father died in combat in World War II, and I stayed with his parents every summer for a few weeks, my usual connection to them. They ran a full working farm, busy and active. One year when in college, my grandmother let me know that my grandfather had to have surgery that week of Thanksgiving. I knew she would be alone; many of the rest of her family lived far away. So I went to be with her on this holiday. It's one holiday I remember vividly because of the difference from my usual holiday. But I also remember that I was happy that I went.
A Celebration Memory:
table lightly spread -
biscuits, greens and chicken,
pie and coffee.
Quiet thoughts; quiet us.
I traveled to offer company,
to have hers, too.
We sit at the kitchen table,
leave the dining room dark.
I talk about my classes, the
new ideas for teaching. She tells me
about the summer heat, that
they finally sold the cow.
Only the chickens remain.
We plan the after-dinner drive to town,
to see Grandpa in the hospital.
We’ll take pie for the nurses,
hugs and conversation for Grandpa.
And we’ll give thanks.
Linda Baie © All Rights Reserved