Continuing with ideas from the book. This time, more weather wordsRemember to share:
Tabatha Yeatts has created a link to poems teachers and librarians can print for poetry month, titled "Poetry in The Halls". I'm grateful to be one of the poets!
Jama Rattigan has a post HERE with many poets' goals for April.
The Progressive Poem schedule can be found on the right!
Our weather changes have been drastic, have caused disruptions. Last month, that #bombcyclone, this time Wednesday into Friday, another snow storm. I attempted a prose poem this time, a memory of when I was a young teen.
Long Ago Snow
I was fourteen and we had a snow day! A sledding hill waited a few blocks behind my home, one many knew, and now many gathered for cookies and cocoa. (What a great mom I had!) and sledding. We didn’t have any snow gear, just clunky rubber boots that only repelled the moisture, so we pulled on three pairs of socks, packed flannel pajamas into our jeans, grabbed the warmest coats and two pairs of gloves. It was time to crunch over to the hill with our sleds, stuffed but warm! One group had a toboggan that would hold four and my own sled held two, sitting, or on top of one another. I loved going down that hill, roller coaster twisting and turning. I loved being there screaming and laughing with friends, only a little afraid someone might go into the creek at the bottom (They didn't). I especially remember a friend, Tommy, who took my hand as we trudged back up the hill after one run. It was a moment I began to figure out what love might feel like.
I also embarrassed myself that day, a day not needing to hold embarrassment. I took off running with the sled, aiming to leap onto it, belly down. I missed the sled and slid quite a way down the hill before I stopped. I lay still in the snowy day, mentally checking my body. I was scrapped on hands and face, not too bad. I wouldn’t have to head home. But the real hurt was inside because I hadn’t done it right and fell off the sled. I wonder why I still remember that and why it was so important. It was actually funny and everyone helped me up, wanted to be sure I was okay. But I remember the warmed face, embarrassed feeling—not a good thing. One answer is apparent to me now: I was fourteen, one foot in love with love and the other wanting to be a great belly-rider on the sled.
I also embarrassed myself that day, a day not needing to hold embarrassment. I took off running with the sled, aiming to leap onto it, belly down. I missed the sled and slid quite a way down the hill before I stopped. I lay still in the snowy day, mentally checking my body. I was scrapped on hands and face, not too bad. I wouldn’t have to head home. But the real hurt was inside because I hadn’t done it right and fell off the sled. I wonder why I still remember that and why it was so important. It was actually funny and everyone helped me up, wanted to be sure I was okay. But I remember the warmed face, embarrassed feeling—not a good thing. One answer is apparent to me now: I was fourteen, one foot in love with love and the other wanting to be a great belly-rider on the sled.
Linda Baie ©
