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Archive for the ‘nature’ Category

SOLC26: Day 13: Poetry Friday Golden Net of Meaning in the Light

Posted in nature, Poetry Friday, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged , , on March 13, 2026| 18 Comments »

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Poetry Friday is hosted today by Linda Baie at Teacher Dance.

Inspiration for writing a poem can come from anywhere. I have learned to pay attention to the signs and thank the universe when words become poems. This week I read Eleanor Wilner’s poem “Of a Sun She can Remember”. This poem is a renga poem in which she took the last line of another poem to become her title.

I used the last line of Wilner’s poem, along with other ideas, lines, words from my daily reading to create a poem.

The Golden Net of Meaning in the Light
after Eleanor Wilner

When a missile misses its mark,
children die.
When channels are closed,
prices rise.
Choose your trouble.
Turn your blinded eyes toward the sun.
Pace the meadow filled with butterweed.
Give your heart-swift
to the clouds hovering.
We are all connected
as the golden cross-hatched web
tethered between rose bushes.
What I need to say—
After the rain,
birds sing
a glorious chorus.

Margaret Simon, drafted

Pádraig Ó Tuama

If you would like to participate in the Kidlit Progressive Poem in April, please go to this link to sign up.

Butterweed on the Bayou

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Poetry Friday: Tricube Challenge

Posted in nature, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged , , , , , on January 30, 2026| 20 Comments »

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Amy at The Poem Farm.

This month the Poetry Sisters challenge was to write a tricube. The tricube form is 3 syllables, 3 lines, 3 stanzas.

Molly Hogan sent me the list of prompts from the MoSt Poetry Center. The prompt I used was this:

“Write a poem of presence, in terms of being in a particular place and time, or of having a dynamic demeanor (such as in “stage presence”) or a feeling of an unseen spirit. Here’s an example by Arthur Sze, our new U. S. Poet Laureate:

Here by Arthur Sze – Poems | Academy of American Poets”

I borrowed the line, “Be here now.”

Every year as I begin to set intentions, I get the universal message of presence. I feel presence is essential to peace of mind, but it is difficult to find.

I have a new kayak. Taking the kayak out took some initiative and help from my husband hero. Jeff had the grandkids in the canoe. When I wanted to try to get the kayak out of the water by myself, my grandson Leo said, “Prove it.” That was all the challenge I needed to pull the 60 pound vessel onto the dock. I did it.

First kayak adventure in “Chrysalis.”

Here
after Arthur Sze

Be here now
Here frog croaks
Here wren calls

Be here now
Here stalk grows
Here tea steams

Be here now
Here oar strokes
Here strength comes

Margaret Simon

I want to thank Tabatha Yeatts who offered on Poetry Friday last week to do an art piece for our 2026 words. I took her up on the offer. I’m touched and amazed at how this speaks to my intention for the year as well as the tricube I wrote.

Art by Tabatha Yeatts

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Enchanted

Posted in nature, Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged on January 21, 2026| 13 Comments »

Glasses in a tree root, photo by Margaret Simon

We haven’t had snow here in south Louisiana, but today on my walk I found a wooly glove missing its owner and these glasses that look like they were intentionally set into the oak tree root. Should I start collecting these items for the possibility of a snowman? Does the tree root have eyes to see? Some deep wisdom?

Having spent my weekend at a picture book writing retreat, everything becomes a possible idea for writing. Today, join me with your imagination and write a small poem in the comments.

I’m sharing a Zeno (8, 4, 2, 1, 4, 2, 1, 4, 2, 1 syllable count and the one syllable words rhyme) I wrote a few years ago that I’ve revised to go with this photo.

Enchanted

I follow the enchanted path
leading me to
unknown
trails.
I trust, listen
as wisdom
hails
mirrors and sounds
of charmed
tales.

Margaret Simon, draft

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Camellia

Posted in nature, Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged , , , on January 14, 2026| 13 Comments »

It is a new year, and I’ve been contemplating whether or not to keep posting photos on Wednesday. I’ve skipped a few weeks and the world keeps going. In 2026, I’ve chosen sacred simplicity as my one little word(s). What can be more simple and sacred than this pure white camellia blossom.

One of the gifts of living in the Deep South is camellias. They are in full bloom this month. People are talking about it. Was it the big freeze last year that brought on the full blooms this year? Nature knows.

If you are feeling a little lacking in the inspiration department, stop by and write a small poem.

My poem draft comes from a word card I chose from Georgia Heard’s newsletter for January, “Quiet” and uses an anaphoric word “Today.” The last line turned melancholic as I have experienced some losses this week.

Today
the downy white camellia blooms
quietly in the winter yard.

Today
the cold spills inside
touching my toes.

Today
seeds are waiting.
My heart is still.
Every note from songbirds
scratch the surface
of morning dew.

And I miss you.

Margaret Simon, draft

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Slice of Life: A New Forest

Posted in being mamére, nature, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged , , on January 6, 2026| 14 Comments »

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

A few months ago, I wrote a post “For the trees” about a nearby empty lot that was sold, and the new owners took out a few of the trees. Well, now, they’ve completely blocked the space as they build their new house.

This weekend when we had the grandkids, I accepted an invitation from a neighbor to walk to her grove of oak trees. She lives on the highway, but as long as we stayed in the yards along the way, I felt it was safe to walk over.

Leo and Alden next to the oldest oak in New Iberia, The Sylvia Oak, named for Beanie’s aunt who once lived on the property.

Her grove became a new forest of wonder. Leo climbed and explored. Along with my neighbor’s 5 year old grandson Alden, he found an old dock with fishing nets tethered to it. The boys tossed those nets in and drug them out over and over again until Alden pointed out that the fish might be getting wise to them because the nets were moving.

Throwing seed to the ducks on the bayou.

Miss Beanie brought out some bird seed for Stella to spread along the bayou banks. A flock of ducks came by, but the boys quickly frightened them by throwing sticks into the water.

Albert (my doodle-dog) and I enjoyed watching their antics and adventures. Every once in a while, a gasp caught in my throat as I considered the dangers. Luckily all was well and they came home safely with only a little bleeding.

Beanie’s yard along the bayou holds the oldest tree in New Iberia. She told the kids it was 450 years old. She showed them how it was struck by lightning and had been held together by thick wires. Those wires have now become embedded into the tree. The kids especially liked her tale about the elephant skin of the tree. “See the elephant’s eye and its trunk?”

Tree climbing!

The new forest is a place we will visit again and again. I am grateful to Beanie for offering the space for us to explore.

Leo’s notebook writing about our adventures.

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem:

Posted in nature, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged , , on November 5, 2025| Leave a Comment »

“Down Da’ Bayou”

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.

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Poetry Friday: Wordle Poem

Posted in nature, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged , , , , on October 24, 2025| 18 Comments »

Patricia Franz has the Poetry Friday Round Up today.

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

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: #WriteOut with the caterpillars

Posted in nature, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing, tagged , , , on October 22, 2025| 8 Comments »

Alien caterpillars

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?

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Poetry Friday: For the Trees

Posted in nature, Poetry Friday, Writing, tagged , , , on October 17, 2025| 17 Comments »

Today’s Poetry Friday Roundup is with Sarah Grace Tuttle.

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!

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This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Counting Turtles

Posted in nature, Photography, Poetry, Writing, tagged , , , on October 15, 2025| 4 Comments »

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.

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