For now, the super moon’s hidden in the daylight. For now, our canoe reaches for the sun. For now, bayou waters are chilled by the wind.
Even now, I feel your strength in the rowing. Even now, I believe our source is love. Even now, my choice is stay.
Margaret Simon, draft
I took this photo on a recent canoe paddle on Bayou Teche. We laughed at the new sign, but a silly poem didn’t come as I wrote. In my notebook, I had written the repeated line “for now” and “even now” and wanted to play around with it a bit.
I invite you to write what comes today. Please leave a small poem in the comments and encourage others with your comments.
Some of my Inkling writing group friends have been inspired to write poems using Wordle guesses. I’ve tried a few times, but as a person who plays Wordle infrequently and always starts with the same word, the practice didn’t appeal to me.
Mary Lee’s rule is when she guesses in three words, she writes a haiku. Yesterday I got it in three tries. I wrote the words down, pearl, rival, and drill, and went about my day.
Newly retired, I’ve found the mornings to be a sanctuary. I take a walk with my dog, fix a pot of oatmeal, and eat on my back deck watching birds. Oh, the retirement life!
At the feeder, I get a variety of birds. (Tufted titmouse, chickadee, cardinal) The thing about using Wordle words forces a metaphor that may or may not work. I was finally pleased with this one, so I am sharing today. Have you tried writing Wordle poems?
A pearl of titmouse rivals chipper chickadee early morning drill Margaret Simon, draft
I bought butterfly plants in the spring. Spring turned to summer. I watered. They survived. Summer turned to fall. I watered. They survived. On first inspection, I thought my plant had a disease. What weird fungus was growing? I opened Google lens. AI generated a match. Giant swallowtail caterpillars! A little lesson from Mother Nature: Do not destroy what you do not know.
Once I figured out what the alien caterpillars were, I put the plant (rue) inside an enclosure. I am excited to watch this process. I wonder if the chrysalis will stay over winter.
This month, I am participating in the National Writing Project’s Write Out, a program supported by the National Parks. Of course, writing outside can happen anytime of the year. The resources at Write Out are exciting and easy to use. Please join in writing today by leaving a small poem in the comments. What lessons do you learn in nature?
I have lived in the same neighborhood for 21 years, and for all of that time, there was an empty lot in the cul-de-sac at the end of the street. This empty lot was my crossover space for walking from my street to a neighboring one that also follows the bayou. The crossover lot was also a picnic area with my grandkids. Together we named where the live oak drapes nearly to the ground “the forest”.
Earlier this week I walked to the forest with my grandkids. Many of the oak limbs were gone! And the rest of the trees had big white X’s on them.
“Mamére, what will happen to the trees?”
“Someone bought this lot, so they are taking down the trees to build a house.”
“So where will we play?”
Sadly, I had to explain that when someone buys their own property, they can do what they want with the trees.
I wish it weren’t true. My heart is sick over this loss.
Leo and Stella pause to pose in the old branches of the live oak in our “forest.” What is left of the tall sweet gum where we collected leaves and gum balls.This old cedar is the next to go.
The National Writing Project annual Write Out with the National Parks Service is happening now. Consider taking time outside to write and post with #writeout.
Prompted by Pádraig Ó Tuama’s invitation to write about a place you know go to, I wrote a poem for the trees.
Paradise Woods on Duperier Oaks
This one is for the trees on the empty lot, the tall sweet gum forever littering the street with spiked balls and feathery leaves, felled for a concrete driveway.
I weep as I pass the old oak whose branches, trimmed exposing bare skin and bones, once held children the “forest” where they played hide-n-seek, Catch-me-if-you-can. If I could, I’d save you now.
Old growth cedar, I apologize that the invasive sound of chain saws disrupts your silent steeple.
I praise trees, your seeds send roots, and secrets.
Trees, you are our saviors. Forgive us.
Margaret Simon, draft
Please head over to Laura Purdie Salas’s site where she features my little Wood Duck Diary and a tanka poem. Thanks, Laura!
On Monday and Tuesday, my grandchildren had Fall Break. They spent it with me. The fall mornings have been cooler, so we spent the good part of Tuesday morning outside. This photo was taken at Devil’s Pond in City Park. Stella has downy white goose feathers in her hands, and she’s pointing to turtles out in the pond. Together she and Leo are counting the turtles.
One Two Three Four Turtles in the pond. Come walk with me. Let’s feel carefree like turtles in a pond.
Margaret Simon, draft
This month is the National Writing Project’s Write Out, which encourages all of us to go outside to write. Prompts can be found on the Write Out website.
Consider writing a small poem and sharing it in the comments. Support other writers with your responses.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
In my retirement, I want to be a better gardener. I envy people who seem to be natural gardeners. Rather than pine over other people’s gardens, I decided I needed to be proactive, so I attended a Acadiana Native Plant Project event last week at the Louisiana Wetlands Center.
Leaning over the purple coneflower is Monica, who I discovered later on, I had taught with 20 years ago.
As we toured the grounds, the members of the native plant project talked with us about the plants that had gone to seed. We were given paper bags to collects seeds in. I wasn’t sure what I was getting into, but I opened my hand to free seeds.
The miracle of seed pods!
I became enthralled by the miracle of seeds.
Beauty Berry!
One of our leaders sent me home with a cutting of Beauty Berry and a seedling of tropical sage.
My home lab
I spent some time googling each seed and figuring out the best way to propagate them. If I’m 20% successful, that is better than nothing. Some of the seeds are in wet paper towels in the fridge to experience fake cold weather. Some I sprinkled right into a pot.
As the temperatures cool off, I hope to feel more motivation for working outside in the yard. And I will be watching for baby plants, and feeling wonder and awe of it all.
I wrote the book of tanka and haibun poems to capture the miracle that my husband and I have witnessed each year by watching a Ring camera in our wood duck house.
Irene Latham wrote: “Readers of all ages will JUMP at the chance to celebrate the life of wood ducks in this inviting volume. Delightful verse, scientific facts, and striking photographs combine in this heartwarming tale of real-life animal adventure (and the humans that make it happen).”
The humans that made this book happen are my dear friends David Dahlquist and Mary Ubinas, through a donation to the TECHE Project. All proceeds will benefit the TECHE Project. One of the goals of the TECHE Project is to promote the well being of wood ducks along the 135 miles of the Bayou Teche through educational workshops and placement of wood duck houses.
My hope is this small book will inspire others to take the time to notice and wonder about nature and our environment. Wood ducks are beautiful birds that were once considered endangered. When we watch the dozen or more ducklings jump from the house a mere 24 hours after hatching, we do not know their fate. I don’t like to think about all the dangers lurking in the bayou waters, so I write poems about them. I’m sharing a few here. The book is available now on Amazon. I will receive my first shipment in a few weeks, so you can also order from me.
February 24
House Hunting (Haibun)
The hens are showing up! Now that the drake scouts have identified a safe nesting box and area, it is time for the hen’s approval as they begin to inspect the boxes for themselves.
Dawn, when sunbeams stream, an expectant glow invites a wood duck couple—
Female shimmies through the hole, Chatter-chipper to her mate.
la maison de chasse L’aube, quand les rayons du soleil coulent, une lueur d’attente invite
un couple de branchus— La femelle se trémousse dans le trou, Chatter-chipper à son compagnon.
Margaret Simon, from Wood Duck Diary
New Chicks
Gentle peeps echo. Jumping onto mother hen, New chicks jitterbug.
Like petals on a pinwheel fluffy down spins together.
Nouveaux poussins
Doux piaulements résonnent. Sautant sur maman canne, Nouveaux poussins font le jitterbug.
Comme des pétales sur un moulinet duvet moelleux tourne en rond.
Summer is winding down. Although, the temperatures remain high. Once again, I turned to teacher-writer-photographer Molly Hogan for a photo prompt. Molly captured this water strider in perfect stride to open up a world. The photo itself is a poem.
It’s a just right day for a haiku. Please consider writing a response poem. Leave encouraging comments for other writers.
Glass pebbles glide below water strider toes tapping into green.
I wish I was a better photographer of birds. This one was taken with my phone out of my kitchen window. I wish you could see the red crown, but I do like the profile and how you see that sharp beak.
This tree is a satsuma tree that succumbed to the freeze this past January. I’m grateful we haven’t taken it down, though, so this beauty could come visit.
I’ve been taking an online poetry workshop with Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer. One of her mentor texts was a poem titled “Romance” by Timothy Liu. I borrowed the opening line for this poem.
Renew
There is nothing renewable about the frozen satsuma tree, unwieldy branches outside the kitchen window, grey with age, dead from winter’s storm.
Yet I see a small downy woodpecker tapping the old tree’s skin, jump-tap, jump-tap, searching for insects to eat.
How I search my fractured memory for signs of my mother, holding comfort of a long life lived, given over at the right time for renewal.
Margaret Simon, draft
Please consider writing your own small poem inspired by this photo. Respond to other writers with encouragement.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
The old adage “Build it and they will come” has certainly worked for me this year. Instead of planting milkweed outside in my butterfly garden, I planted two varieties in pots. This was due to a discovery that milkweed is poisonous to dogs. And our dog loves to romp in the butterfly garden.
In the spring, I found monarch caterpillars on the swamp milkweed. A few weeks ago I found two tiny ones on the tropical milkweed. Because of all the predators (lizards, birds, etc.), I decided to put the two babies in an enclosure. What I thought was two became 6 very healthy caterpillars munching away on both varieties. I was hoping I could keep them fed for the growth period.
Healthy monarch caterpillars
All six made chrysalises. Four of them had moved appropriately to the top, but one made its chrysalis on a stem and another on the side of the cup holding the demolished milkweed.
Over the past two days they all emerged, two on one day and the other four the next.
Beautiful monarch!
I feel a sense of accomplishment that I successfully raised 6 new monarchs to fly free into the world.
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She teaches gifted elementary students, writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 