Poetry Friday - Celebrating Gifts

            I'm off with my daughter and the grand-girls next week to visit family, and wanted to be sure to share my latest special poem swap gift before I go! Thanks to Tabatha Yeatts who created the swap several years ago, those of us who participate have double pleasures each time: we get to create and send a special poem to someone else, and we receive awesome poem/packages in the mail. Considering much of my mail is opened as I stand by the re-cycle bin, this is a thrill.  

           Visit Tara Smith at A Teaching Life for all the Poetry Friday links today. This time, Tara shares a poem that means goodbye to summer, something especially poignant for teachers returning to their classrooms. Thanks for hosting, Tara!

           I've written sestinas, and have had my students write them too. It's a pleasing form, and often when one explores, I've found a story emerges. But I've never had someone write a sestina about me. I'm a bit embarrassed to share this from Doraine Bennett, who wrote and sent my latest swap surprise. It is a poem about me, and I am grateful to have been given such a compliment.

           In addition to the sestina, Doraine sent me a gift that will be remembered for a long time, a variety of bulbs and seeds from her own garden! 

           Thanks for all the lovely surprises, Doraine!

Each bulb or packet of seeds came with a note, but this
note is especially wonderful: "from my daddy from me
to you".

And something for the future flowers on their way!

Celebration

        for Linda

      by Doraine Bennett

For one who knows how to celebrate,

life is like a garden.

Every plant has its story

woven intricately into the grand

scheme of things that bloom

and stretch towering heads toward sun.

That one always lifts her face to the sun,

looking for light, a reason to celebrate.

She has a knack for seeing a wild bloom

hidden beneath mulch in the garden,

one that isn’t nearly so grand

as the rose bursting with its own story.

That singular wild flower has a story

all its own and needs the sun,

but not just the sun. It needs a grand

gardener who can celebrate

the smallest, plainest plant in the garden

and give it the room necessary to bloom.

She knows just which bloom

needs just which story

in order to sink roots deep in the garden

and lift its tiny head toward sun.

Each time it happens, she knows to celebrate

the flower, the growth, the journey. It’s grand.

And so is she. She’s a grand

gardener, a grandmother in full bloom

teacher her grand flowers to celebrate

their own roots and buds, their story,

as she points their face toward the sun,

knowing the work required to grow a garden.

What is life without a garden?

And what is a garden without a grand

mother to share the sun

shining on each new bloom,

together growing a magical story

that each will celebrate?

One must know how to celebrate a garden

for the story, grand or common,

to burst full bloom into the shining of the sun.