So much can happen in a week. I took a photo last Wednesday, January 6th in the early morning before the sunrise. Capturing the moon peeking between the arms of an old oak tree, I was in a good mood. The week was going well, back to school after the holidays, and my spirits were lifted to the sky. Since that morning, my country that felt safe became unsettled and moving in a violent direction, attacked by American citizens, our own people, our neighbors. I’m struggling with how to feel, how to move forward, how to teach.
But today, I was looking for a photo to post, a photo that wants to be a poem. Maybe you are, too. Please join me by writing a small soul-searching poem, only 15 words, maybe fewer. Leave your poem in the comments and respond to others. Thanks for giving me hope, the thing with feathers…
An acorn buried long ago
Margaret Simon, draft
reaches out
toward the moon
hopeful
to shelter
another day.
Reflections on the Teche 
shelter day and night,colors, clothes of leaf, and boughs that lift and offer seating… don’t be upset over Donald, the clean out to happen sometime, had to be led by someone, not that we want all those with guns getting excited, but it’s over now, a new start for everyone, hopefully, amen
This line holds hope that we need: boughs that lift and offer seating. Watching the proceedings today in the House brought a new level of awareness for 2021. Let’s hope for peace…
“Shelter day and night”–something about that combination of words really appeals to me. I appreciate the hopeful note of your poem. Fingers crossed!
Beautiful imagery and meaning!
Yes, let’s have hope for another day and another and another. I love the idea of reaching for it.
once upon a time
grandmother wore a pearl
moonlight tiara
Linda, moonlight tiara-what a lovely image. Reaching for hope is the quest for 2021.
You remembered that our oak is called grandmother! Love the pearl tiara and the fairytale-ness of this poem.
I love that moonlight tiara, Linda! Beautiful! And how perfect that you remembered that Margaret’s oak is called “Grandmother.”
Beautiful image, Linda!
Linda, so much joy. I love “moonlight tiara!”
Margaret, your poem speaks to hope, a spiritual wish for all of us. I hear the howl of the night wind and reflect:
winter bares its soul
in nighttime stillness
moonglow softly shines
©CV, 2021
Love all the s sounds.
Your opening line grabbed me, Carol. There’s a stark vulnerability there and I’m so appreciative of the gentle moonglow that follows.
nighttime stillness….sigh. I love it when I can find it.
Lovely lines, Carol!
Carol, beautiful imagery and personification! I love the concept of winter talking about it’s worry and moon shines in return as though she heals winter.
What a lovely, optimistic poem, Margaret. I like the reminder that the mighty oak sprang from a small acorn. Here’s my effort which feels very drafty–I think I’ll come back to it later and spend some more time on it. Thanks for the beautiful photo!
Open to Interpretation
Within oaken branches,
Moon glows.
Cradled
or imprisoned?
A beacon
or a flare?
Still
Moon glows.
So hoping for cradled beacon. I see no need to revise. The repetition is comforting.
I love how you question what is happening, looking at different possibilities.
Molly, my response to your poem accidentally went under Rose’s poem. Sorry.
Cradled, cradled….I vote for cradled. Either way…I have the glow. Nice, Molly.
This is a lovely image, Margaret. And your poem is so hopeful. I’m thinking of affirmations today after reading Kathleen’s TWT post.
a kiss from moon
on a gentle giant
affirms
I am loved,
I am strong
Molly, I agree with Margaret and Rose. Your ending “Still moon glows” brings to mind that no matter what happens good or bad, moon will still glow, moon will still heal us, which is hopeful to me. Thank you.
Rose, I’m sorry my response to Molly went under your poem. I love your personification and image of the moon kissing a gentle giant! Then, to turn that kiss into powerful statements, feelings is exactly what we need. Beautiful and powerful; love your poem!
Margaret, thank your for your beautiful photo and your beautiful and hopeful poem. I love your imagery and personification of a hopeful acorn reaching out to the moon for shelter. When I hike I often hug trees.
I hugged
old oak,
her arms
rocked me,
her voice
sweet as
a lullaby.
Oh yes I have hugged an oak. Love this!
Thank you, Margaret. I want to hug your oak; it looks so different than oaks up here. 🙂
A perfect poem for this photo. 🙂