July | 2026 | Reflections on the Teche

Archive for July, 2026

Slice of Life: Snarky Poet

Posted in Poetry, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged American Sonnet, Ethical ELA, Glenda Funk, Terrance Hayes on July 21, 2026| 8 Comments »

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

I’m not usually a snarky poet, so I surprised myself with my response to Glenda’s prompt on Ethical ELA Open Write: Double Consciousness American Sonnet.

Glenda took inspiration from Terrence Hayes’ book American Sonnet for my Past and Future Assassin. “I lock you in an American sonnet that is part prison,
Part panic closet, a little room in a house set aflame.”

I borrowed the opening line to write about a parking lot annoyance of mine, backing in. The title is a play on words. My grandson asked me if “pissed” was a bad word. Then he playfully asked about “piston”.

Parking Lot Piston

I lock you in your white Ford truck backed in over the yellow line.
You are not my kind, hefty and trumped
on four jacked-up off-road tires
designed to crush little people like me
with your oversized parts.

I won’t hitch up my skirt to take a ride.
I park nose-front & take my time
not to cross the line. I return
the wire buggy to the cart-horse paddock,
flash a fake smile to the sweaty boy
maneuvering the train.

I hold my superiority under my side slung purse
where my soft belly holds verses of quiet fortitude.

Margaret Simon, draft

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Poetry Friday: Summer Poetry Postcards

Posted in Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged poetry postcard, Summer Poetry Swap on July 17, 2026| 17 Comments »

Poetry Friday is being hosted by Jill. She offers an instructional video on making zines.

A few months ago I joined a poetry postcard exchange group. I’ve received creative handmade postcards and poems from people I’ve never met. It is so much fun to find one tucked into my mailbox, a bit of sunshine on a cloudy day. I need to figure out a way to keep them so that I can enjoy both sides. Any ideas?

This month I sent out a photo card I made on Canva using a photo of passion flower.

The poet
finds a prayer
on the passion vine
resting on yellow anther
sprinkling pollen
on bumblebees.

The hope is in the bee’s
instinct to stick around.
*Margaret Simon*

I’m also participating in the Summer Poem Swap that Tabatha organizes. I received a Little Golden Book handmade book from Linda Mitchell. I love that she kept all the pages from the original book.

Little Golden Book journal made by Linda Mitchell.

I’m using it to do collage journaling about my summer. Here is a page spread I made about birds. The watercolor goldfinch is from an Emily Lex Studio watercolor painting book.

In what ways are you embracing poetry and creativity this summer?

I want to thank Joyce Uglow for featuring me and my book “What’s That Sound? Birds of the Bayou” on her uGroNews series this week.

I have moved “This Photo Wants to be a Poem” to my Substack. Please consider subscribing so that it will show up in your inbox.

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Slice of Life: Summer on the Bayou

Posted in being mamére, nature, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged #bayoulife, Bayou Teche, grandchildren on July 14, 2026| 10 Comments »

Today, I am featured in an interview with picture book author Joyce Uglow on her Substack series uGROnews. Please skip over to learn more about my process in writing What’s That Sound? Birds of the Bayou.

Our bayou life has slowed to the rhythm of summer. Because of the longer days, we were able to feed our hungry grandchildren, then head out for a jaunt on the bayou. Stella at age 5.5 likes to say she’s scared, but we encourage her with reminders like “Once you’re in the boat, you will have fun!” She doesn’t like the process of getting in. The canoe wobbles. Each time gets a little easier. This Sunday evening, she climbed in without crying. Her older brother Leo acts as an expert.

Loading up the canoe for a summer evening paddle.

I followed in my kayak. I am no expert at kayaking. I go slow, slow, back and forth. My arms tire out pretty quickly. Apparently Leo got worried about me. He said, “I want to go back to get Mamére.”

Kayak selfie with Leo, Stella, and Papére in the canoe.

That was sweet, but I was fine drifting about and enjoying the scenery. Later I showed Stella this photo and she said, “I didn’t see that!”

Perspectives are different. They were probably most concerned about seeing the alligator that our neighbor said was lurking about.

I’m happy we can play on God’s playground in a boat on the bayou.

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Poetry Friday: Dead Tree is Alive

Posted in nature, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged #poemsofpresence, Field Guide, Georgia Heard on July 10, 2026| 11 Comments »

Poetry Friday roundup is with Jan at Bookseed Studio.

I can always count on Georgia Heard for getting me through a writing slump. She sends out a monthly prompt calendar. Each prompt is easily accessible from where I sit at my kitchen table. The prompt for July 8th was “Describe a place by what’s missing from it.”

My gaze went directly to the window to the dead satsuma tree outside. We lost it in the big freeze of 2025. I’ve asked my yard man (my husband) to let it be. I was hoping to attract downy woodpeckers. In the spring passion vine sprang up around the trunk of the tree. As I had hoped, the space has become alive with bees and butterflies and birds.

Dead Tree is Alive

With passion vine
open purple flowers
for fritillary lighting.
A suet feeder invaded
by raccoon fingers
lies open and empty.
Old satsuma leafless
sweet fruit a memory.
Lichen clings, fluffs in misty rain.

You are holding hope
of feathers
on bare branches,
Alive.

Margaret Simon, draft

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Spiritual Thursday: The Book of Longings

Posted in Books, Spiritual Growth, Writing, tagged Sue Monk Kidd on July 9, 2026| 5 Comments »

Kim is gathering Spiritual Thursday posts today at her blog, Common Threads.

This summer I have been reading Sue Monk Kidd. First I read her book on creativity and writing, Writing Creativity and Soul. In that book she references the books she has written, and I began the hunt for The Book of Longings. I found it at an independent bookstore in Port Townsend, WA, Imprint Bookshop. The owner told me it was his favorite of her books, that it really made him think.

Sue Monk Kidd imagines that Jesus would have had a wife. She names her Ana. She is a strong and smart woman who feels pent up by the usual chores of a wife. In this reimagining of history, Ana shows us that even though society norms did not listen to her voice, she has one. She is a writer in a time when writing a book was done painstakingly by hand on papyri. She believes in her own power. Her relationship with Jesus is built on pure love and mutual respect. I got lost in this story and wanted to live there.

Once long ago I had a dream in which Jesus appeared to me. I was so moved by it that it set off a longing in me much like Ana’s longing. However, Ana is not only driven by her longing for Jesus, she is also driven by her longing to be heard. She has shown me that it is enough to be who you truly are.

Sue Monk Kidd does an amazing job of keeping the historical and biblical information true while giving us a woman to relate to.

Ana writes a prayer into her incantation bowl:

Lord our God, hear my prayer, the prayer of my heart. Bless the largeness inside me, no matter how I fear it. Bless my reed pens and my inks. Bless the words I write. May they be beautiful in your sight. May they be visible to eyes not yet born. When I am dust, sing these words over my bones: she has a voice.

Ana, Jesus’s wife (The Book of Longings by Sue Monk Kidd)

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Slice of Life: Birthday Twins

Posted in being mamére, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged #beingmamére, birthday twins, grandchildren, smash cake on July 7, 2026| 11 Comments »

While most people were celebrating the nation’s 250th birthday, our family was tucked away at Minga’s pool. Minga is my mother-in-law and her birthday is July 3rd. She turned 95! Certainly a momentous occasion, but we also celebrated my youngest grandson Sam’s first birthday.

Stella, 5, Leo, 7, June, 3, Minga, 95, Martha with Sam, 1, and Thomas, 6.

All three of my daughters and their families gathered with us. We ate burgers and sausage prepared on the grill. There was a smash cake for Sammy and a creamy chantilly cake for my mother-in-law. My oldest daughter passed out Minga tattoos.

I stayed in the pool most of the time and watched the grandchildren. It was fun to invent pool games like mermaid poses with the girls and throwing-the-ball-while-jumping-in with the boys. We had a few bonks and dunks that led to crying, but for the most part, the day was joyous. At one point all three of my daughters were gathered around a small splash pool watching Sam play. Looking at him never gets old. We all agree he is the cutest.

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Poetry Friday: Singing

Posted in being mamére, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged #beingmamére, Inklings challenge, lullaby, Seamus Heaney on July 3, 2026| 21 Comments »

The Poetry Friday Roundup today is at Michelle’s place: More Art 4 All

Today is the first Friday of the month, so we have an Inklings Challenge. Catherine asked us to use a prompt from Audrey Gidman’s June list:

“Read “Digging” by Seamus Heaney. Think about something that has been handed down to you—from a parent, a grandparent, an elder in your life—that feels alive in you now. Think of how it is the same and think of how it has transformed in you. Notice how, for Heaney, it’s gardening and writing—two kinds of digging, but still the digging continues through the generations. Write a poem that digs into what was handed down to you and examines what you carry now.”

This summer I have been doing a good deal of babysitting for my grandchildren. This has been both a privilege and a challenge. I have a lullaby that was passed down to me that I sang to my children and continue to sing to my grandchildren (even to Leo who cringes every time).

Singing

Inspired by Seamus Heaney

My grandson asks for a lullaby
while he covers his head, hiding
beneath the blankets.

When my mother sang an operatic alto,
in a foreign language she’d never spoken,
I hid from her joy, let her vibrato shiver
my heart under a pillow.

I didn’t want to know opera
like her father taught her,
but she took me anyway,
read the plot before curtain call.

I made my body small
in the plush red theatre seat.

Now, I see her face in mine.
My voice cracks on the high notes.
My smile wrinkles into soft blush.
Singing was the last thing to go.

Here, I sit perched on the edge of the bed
leaning into a seven year old boy
claiming his independence
while wishing
for a song to cling to.

Margaret Simon, draft

Check out other Inklings poems below:

Catherine @Reading to the Core
Heidi @my juicy little universe
Linda @A Word Edgewise
Mary Lee @Another Year of Reading
Molly @Nix the Comfort Zone