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Archive for May, 2023

This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Portugal Portal

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Travel, Writing, tagged , , , on May 31, 2023| 43 Comments »

Summer is here! This is the time I travel vicariously through others. Because of circumstances keeping me at home this summer, I will not be traveling. But my 24 year-old niece recently toured Portugal and posted dreamy, beautiful photos. I asked her if I should put Portugal on my bucket list and her response was “Yes! The hills/stairs are killer but it’s so beautiful.” I’m having second thoughts, but maybe I can build up to it. My walking path is flat and the last time I did an elliptical, I couldn’t walk for a few days. This photo was taken by Taylor Saxena in Madeira, Portugal.

For this flash draft, I used my Insight Timer, an ap that offers a timer with ambient sounds as well as meditations. I’ve set the timer for 5 minutes. When you write today, consider a time limit and accept what comes.

Thoughts come and go. Feelings come and go. Find out what it is that remains.

Ramana Maharshi

Sometimes
I think about going.
Sometimes
I feel what it means to stay.
Stay near you,
listen to the sounds of your voice;
stay for what may be
the last time.
Margaret Simon, draft

Please sit and stay. Write what comes and place your words in the comments. They don’t have to be good or perfect, but they are yours for now, this moment. Reply to other writers with encouraging words.

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Slice of Life: New Tenants

Posted in Slice of Life, tagged , , , on May 30, 2023| 8 Comments »

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Wikimedia Commons Black-bellied whistling duck

If you have read my blog through the years, you may already know that we raise wood ducks. Actually, we have a wood duck house that has a Ring doorbell camera inside. In February and March of this year we watched a mother wood duck dutifully attend to a dozen eggs and successfully hatch 8 of them. We missed actually witnessing Jump Day because it was a school day. I even missed watching the little ducklings climbing out on my phone video because I was out at recess.

In the past we have had two clutches, one in March and another in May or June. But this year the duck house remained empty for weeks after the first mother left with her eight little ducklings. We waited.

Once again we have a tenant duck, but not a wood duck. It’s a Mexican squealer or black-bellied whistling duck. At first we were disappointed, but as the weeks have gone back, this weird orange-billed duck has won over our hearts. We’ve had to learn about this breed.

The first thing we noticed in the description were the not-so-favorable adjectives, words like “boisterous” and “gaudy”.

Fun Facts about Black-Bellied Whistling Ducks

  • Known as tree ducks because they hang out in trees.
  • “Sexual dimorphism”: both male and female look alike.
  • They form lifelong pair bonds. Both male and female tend to the hatchlings.
  • There are plenty of them, low-conservation concern.

Egg incubation is 25-30 days. I marked that the first night of sitting was on May 5th, so we should see hatching in the next week or so. The babies are colored like bumblebees, yellow and black feathering. Whether wood ducks or whistlers, our nest box continues to entertain us.

Inside the nest box, the whistling duck is taller than a wood duck and can look out the window.

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem is..

Posted in Writing on May 24, 2023| Leave a Comment »

With Linda Mitchell today at A Word Edgewise.

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Poetry Friday: A Day in May

Posted in Poetry Friday, Teaching, Writing, tagged , , , on May 19, 2023| 14 Comments »

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Janice Scully at Salt City Verse.

Dropping a smoothie sent me over the edge.
I was trying too hard to hold it all, and the weight shifted.
Everything fell out of arms and undid me.
Return to Presence, my Enneathought of the Day says,
but a return to presence meant I needed to start over.

Give me a task, a group of fourth graders to watch over.
I can count to ten, but I can’t climb down from the bleachers.
I can sit on the floor with them to eat lunch, but I can’t
get back up. Know thyself.
Be true to who you are.

A body that is running on fumes of a school year.
A plate that is toppling, balanced on a single finger.

Among the smiles of graduates on Facebook,
I found a poem, a gift of Mary Oliver
whose wisdom buoys me,
“How two hands touch and the bonds will
never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the
scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.”
Comfort me, oh poem.
Be with me, in me, over me.
Help me walk back into school today
another day in May.

Margaret Simon, flash draft because I’ve been too busy to spend any time on crafting a poem.

May as a teacher is the hardest month of the year. Emotions are heightened. We are trying to squeeze in field trips, fun day/water day, ceremonies, awards, grades, and all the other seemingly endless paper work. It’s overwhelming. I didn’t have a poem ready for today, so I just did what I do best, open the blank blog post and write straight from my gut. This stress will be over soon, and I will settle into the relaxing days of summer. But today, there is much to do and little time to get it done. I’m sure you know what I mean. All my best to all the teachers out there just trying to make it to the end still smiling, still loving their job, and still being their best selves.

Waterfall exhibit at the Hilliard Museum in Lafayette, LA.

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Morning Wonder

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged , , , , , on May 17, 2023| 36 Comments »

I am a hopeless romantic who believes that dreams come true. Recently, for me that has been wonderfully true and painfully false all at the same time. I think that’s life. How can someone capture that feeling in a photograph? Molly Hogan does. The photo for today she took on her way to work. The caption on Facebook simply said, “What almost made me late for work twice this week.” The reality is that we work every day, and sometimes those days are hard and don’t go the way we planned. We do it anyway, every day. But sometimes there is beauty that stops us in our tracks, makes us pull the car over and wonder at the miracle of two things, flowering branch and rising sun, can come together in a composition of Awe.

Put on your awe-glasses today. Find the flower in the rainstorm. Be aware that life will not always be so hard. Breathe. Join me in musing over this amazing photo and write for a few minutes. It will be good for your soul.

Photo by Molly Hogan.

Summer Comes

I have a long list
of things to do.
You know the one
we write each May
and tick away day by day
until you wake up on a morning
in June and find peace
on a branch with blue blossoms
welcoming you awake.

Margaret Simon, flash draft

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Poetry Friday: Mother to Mother

Posted in being mamére, Gratitude, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged , on May 12, 2023| 16 Comments »

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Robyn Hood Black at Life on the Deckle Edge

Last year on Mother’s Day, we gathered for my father’s funeral, all together, happy to have each other to hold. I am a mother who is blessed to have two living mothers, my own and my mother-in-law, who said years ago when someone called me her daughter, “I’ll claim her.”

A long line of belonging
begins with mothers
to me
to my three daughters
to their children.
We are miracles
dancing beside each other.

My brother texted me a video this week of my mother with her assisted living friends in a circle singing “Amazing Grace.” I responded, “When I am old, I want to sing hymns.”

My mother-in-law (affectionately called “Minga”) recites the 23rd Psalm in French every night before she sleeps.

Every night, my daughter reads Madeline to her daughter, “In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines.”

There is a song inside of me that I wrote after Joni Mitchell for my granddaughter June. She doesn’t know it yet, but I hope she will one day.

Little June 

after Joni Mitchell’s “Little Green”

Born with the moon in solstice.
Choose her a name she will want to say.
Call her June so December cannot freeze her.
Call her June for the rosy warmth of her skin.
Little June, be a strong butterfly.

Just a little June
like the brightness of a summer’s day.
There’ll be dandelions to pick for Mom tomorrow.
Just a little June
like when sprinklers make the water spray.
There’ll be bicycles and birthday bows
And cousins you will follow.

Margaret Simon
Baby June with my daughter, Martha in a field of bluebonnets.

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: A Ladder to…

Posted in Writing on May 10, 2023| 30 Comments »

This week I’m an irresponsible photo stealer. I usually credit the photographer, but I have this photo in my phone, and I know I didn’t take it. Someone else did. I just can’t remember who. If it was you, please claim it. Mary Lee remembered that this photo was on Kim Douillard’s blog Thinking Through my Lens.

I was fascinated by the perspective of the ladder, how it seems to go nowhere grounded by nothing and yet, we know the laws of gravity won’t allow this to be true. I used a random word generator for a word group to use: loose, danger, refuse, chalk.

Can you use the same words in a different way? Let’s explore perspective today. And if that’s too much to ask, just write and share. It’s May and my brain power is waning significantly.

Ladder to the sky, Kim Douillard

Danger becomes refuse
when the sky invites me up.
I loose my sense of direction
the chalk line blurs,
and I let go and fly.

Margaret Simon, draft

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Slice of Life: Swallowtail Release

Posted in Slice of Life, Teaching, Writing, tagged , , on May 9, 2023| 6 Comments »

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

On Sunday morning, I noticed the chrysalis on my back porch that I had nurtured was turning black. This could be a good sign or a bad sign. I found the swallowtail caterpillar in my friend’s garden when she was offering me two dill plants for my student’s butterfly garden project. I took the cactus it was hanging out on as well as some dill for feeding it.

When the little puffed up caterpillar made its chrysalis, he did it on the dill. Yikes, I knew the dill would die eventually because it was just in water. What actually happened was the dill stem bent down. No! The chrysalis must stay in the position it was made in.

Swallowtail chrysalis usually takes on the color of its environment. It can be green or brown.

I found a stick in my yard, placed it next to the dill stem with the chrysalis and tied then together with dental floss. I wasn’t sure it would work. This chrysalis traveled home in my car and sat on my back porch for another week. Until Sunday.

There he was, like a miracle, fully formed and on the just right day before the school week started again. I was able to take him to school, show him off to students in the hallway and with the gentle help of Avalyn, we released him into the wild.

My friend Mary who originally gave me the caterpillar is out of town tending to her brother Carlos. I named the butterfly Carlos and now he is roaming free somewhere in Coteau. We hope our newly planted butterfly garden nurtures him, but as with all wild things, we will never know.

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Poetry Friday: May Flowers

Posted in Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged , , , , on May 5, 2023| 14 Comments »

Today Poetry Friday is hosted by Linda Baie at Teacher Dance.

Happy May! May is a time for flowers. Let me interrupt this poetry post with a gallery of flowers.

Purple salvia in the butterfly garden, red canna returned from winter, and begonias at Walmart on May Day

On May Day I stopped at Walmart just to see what they had in the Garden Center. I was wowed by coral pink and yellow begonias, a whole display of them that seemed to be punished. I had to climb over the back of the display to get to them while a worker totally ignored me because she had to put together a grill. How did she not notice the beauty that was right in her way? I only rescued five of them, but I wanted all 50! I gave away each one to people in my life who have been shoulders for the weight I carry.

Last week my student and I planted a butterfly garden in a vegetable garden box abandoned by the 4-H Club. Lowe’s gave her $200 to shop with. The purple salvia is singing to the butterflies. We haven’t seen any yet, but we are keeping the soil moist so that all our plants can thrive and invite them.

This first Friday of May, Linda Mitchell invited the Inklings to write:

Write a poem from your O-L-W for 2023
Or
Find a piece of artwork that has a word(s) embedded and write an ekphrastic poem inspired by the piece
Or
Go to Merriam-Webster’s Word of the Day (any similar site) and be inspired by a word from there
Or
Just write a poem–about anything that needs to be written.

Linda Mitchell, a generous open prompt for the crazy month of May

An author-friend suggested I subscribe to Kelly Bennett’s newsletter, Fishbowl, in which she prompts a 7 minute writing each week. I responded to her prompt using a May Sarton poem “Bliss” as a model poem. I borrowed a few words and was on my way. The photo is a word card that Linda M sent me for National Poetry Month, so I basically hit all points of the challenge.

Find other Inklings poems at these links:

Heidi Mordhorst
Linda Mitchell
Molly Hogan
Mary Lee Hahn
Catherine Flynn

The Kidlit Progressive poem for 2023 is archived here. I decided to archive the poems together, so scroll down to find 2023. Thanks to all who participated. What a fun adventure into the forest!

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Spiritual Journey Thursday: Shall We Dance?

Posted in Spiritual Growth, Writing, tagged , , , on May 4, 2023| 13 Comments »

Today’s Round up is with Chris at Horizon 51.

Last weekend when I was dancing after some hard stuff, I had no idea that Chris had chosen “Shall we Dance?” for our Spiritual Thursday theme this week. There’s a group of bloggers who have been dedicated to Spiritual Thursday and take turns hosting the links on our blogs. We typically post on the first Thursday of the month, but life has been happening at full speed and I had not slowed down enough to notice this is it.

However coincidentally or maybe God, the universe, were speaking to me last Saturday at Festival Internationale. My husband Jeff and I met up with our girls and their families late afternoon at the free music festival. There was one band Jeff and I wanted to see, so we broke away from our family and joined the Cajun music tent. The weather turned cold after a morning front had moved through. The wind picked up to gusts that sent my dress flying. We danced and danced and danced…to every song Bonsoir, Catin played.

We find such joy in the mix of people in the tent. The band is an all girl band who have been playing together in some mixture of women Cajun artists for 20 years. They chose their name from a traditionally Cajun term that means something close to “Good evening, baby doll.” They have taken it to mean Cajun Girl Power. While Jeff and I were dancing, I wrote a poem in my head. It was a little while before I could get to paper, so this is a rough draft, but this is how I felt Saturday night.

Festival Dancing

In the Bonsoir Catin tent,
Festival feet are two-steppin’
All the girls are playin’
fiddle
bass
accordion
acoustic and electric guitar.

The parking lot is full.
We bump backs,
step on toes,
twirl and lose a hat.

Cares tossed to the wind
that blows in a hurricane swirl
lifting my dress.

He tells me “You are light tonight.”
as we dance, dance, dance.

Margaret Simon, draft

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