I’ve been working through the new book 90 Ways of Community by Sarah Donovan, Mo Daley, and Maureen Young Ingram of Ethical ELA. Daily I’ve been reading a prompt to my students and writing alongside them. Today’s prompt comes from Linda Mitchell. Her original prompt suggests to find a list of words in our notebooks to write along to. Her sample poem is “Wishing Well Price List” which led me to think of the song from the musical Oliver, Who Will Buy?.
I took this photo at sunrise on Sunday morning. Hanging from our grandmother oak is a rope swing. I began to imagine how many people over the years have swung on that rope. My grandchildren don’t have the strength yet in their toddler bodies to hold on, but they love swinging the rope and running to keep it from hitting them, a game they made up.
This photo may take you on a journey to another place in your memory. Let it go and write a small poem in the comments. Respond to others with encouraging words.
Who will buy
this sunglow on water?Who will buy
the fallsteam rising?Who will buy
a twist of rope to swing on?Who will buy
this changing of seasons?
I find a reason to keep my spirits high
wondering who will buy.Margaret Simon, draft
Reflections on the Teche 
What a gorgeous photo, Margaret—the arch of the grandmother oak leaned into my memory of the huge oak at my beloved sleep away camp, where I would climb into a crook, feel incredibly accomplished for doing so, and once fell out. Revisiting the remains of the camp with the also-beloved owner and director, I saw an empty space where the oak once stood. Thank you so much for this invitation to remember what I’ve never written about!
ONCE UPON AN OAK TREE
I still see it there, and me in its branches
Memory as clear as the feel in my abdomen
Freedom from the earth, from worry about
My curly hair and glasses, too-big body
In a too-short frame. The oak has gone
to the place of the memories: sharply outlined
in their invisibility.
Draft, Carol Coven Grannick
Carol, I love it when this happens, my photo sparks a deep memory, and moves you to a poem. I wear on my arm today the word “inspire”. If no one else comments, I have fulfilled my purpose today. I can relate to that feeling of awkwardness when you are a teenager. Why does it take a lifetime to accept our bodies?
Thank you for sharing the lovely memory, Carol. I can picture you taking refuge in the old oak tree’s embrace.
The title of your post brought back a memory of preteen me belting out the song from Oliver! that my sister and I played continuously. I still remember the lyrics! The photo and your words took me in a slightly different direction, although I kept the questions.
Passing It On
Who will greet the morning
when the wren no longer sings?
Who will squeal with laughter
when the rope no longer swings?
Who will tuck the day inside –
a memory to keep
from family to family,
generations deep?
Draft, Rose Cappelli
Oh, Rose, I love this sweet and heartstrings-pulling rhyming poem, begging for us to save the stories of these beautiful days.
Thanks, Carol.
Rose, your poem moves me. The echoes of who. The questions of our grieving hearts.
Thanks, Margaret.