Patricia Franz sent me this photo a few weeks ago following Hurricane Hilary near La Jolla, CA. The photo was taken by her friend Lynette Barravecchia. This photo has a definite Pacific Coast vibe about it. I live near the Gulf Coast, and the Pacific behaves very differently, much rockier with large waves are to invite surfing. I don’t think I would feel safe wading into the waves. I love to watch them, though.
After the storm, near San Diego, California by Lynette Barravecchia.
A ghostly mist rises over ocean flow bidding mystery
Margaret Simon, draft
Where does this photo lead you? Are you drawn to the invitation to write? Leave your small poems in the comments. Encourage others with your responses.
I hope this post finds you happy and healthy and enjoying the last dog days of summer. My friend, fellow teacher-poet Molly Hogan has been getting outside and taking amazing photos in nature. I borrowed this photo from her Facebook page. She identified the flower as phlox. The water droplets transform this image into something new entirely. I’ve been watching a great white egret appear on the bayou each day, so my haiku turns the image to the egret. Use your imagination and write a small poem in the comments. Be sure to read others and encourage with your responses.
Welcome to this free writing space. If you are moved to write a small poem, leave it in the comments. Support other writers with encouragement.
I made my first cup of coffee and added salt instead of sugar. I hope that doesn’t indicate the kind of day I will have. Some of our actions, thoughts, words do have a ripple effect. Ripples are on my mind today. I chose a photo from Mary Lee Hahn’s Instagram post from Dawes Arboretum in Newark, OH.
Dawes Arboretum, by Mary Lee Hahn
Ripple is a specific word. I decided to write a wandering word poem. I first saw this form years ago on Today’s Little Ditty in an interview with Nikki Grimes. You begin with the word you want to write about and then wander about exploring the word and its meaning.
Ripple is an organized word without a plan. It’s a matter of science, how force interacts with movement, sand or water, our words or actions. They swell, fold, curl upon themselves, spreading infinitely into the universe. Like a tide that comes in to rest on your toes, then moves back leaving tickling sand residue. When you are the one tossing the pebble, be careful, be kind. Remember the ripple.
What is your favorite color? This is a hard question. Somedays it’s the cyan blue of the sky; others it’s the purple center of a gladiola. Yellow is my favorite color of summer, but I don’t often wear yellow because years ago I had my “colors done” and yellow makes me look pale. I recently asked a friend what her favorite bird was. She first said dunlins for their murmurations, then she said, “house finch.” And finally, after some thought, she texted a photo of Anna’s hummingbird. Do you have a favorite bird?
Today for this photo, think about your favorite color of the moment, and write a Color is poem.
On my back deck I have two red flowers blooming. They seem to be heat resistant. I used the portrait mode on my iPhone to take these photos.
Red mandevilla
red canna
Red is hot waving in the summer breeze like a warning flag to stay inside and drink iced tea.
Red is June’s skin so rosy it’s almost purple as she crawls across the floor looking back to smile at Pépère.
Travel has not been on my summer agenda, but I have been enjoying travels of my friends by scrolling social media. Recently Mo Daley experienced an amazing trip to Kenya with infamous Kwame Alexander. I held down my jealousy and let her photographs take me back to a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Tanzania in 2016. Mo’s photos taken from her iPhone were incredible. You should check them out on Facebook.
I was drawn to the zebras. On my trip with my mother-in-law and sister-in-law, we often talked about which animal was our favorite. It was so hard to choose. The tall majesty of the giraffe. The fierce calm of the lions. The gentleness of the elephants. But the zebras! Zebras feel like a joke from God. The contrast of black and white reflects our natural day to night rhythm. They were always seen in herds, with their friends.
Zebras in Kenya by Mo Daley
I played around with the monotetra form this morning. Each stanza includes 4 rhymed lines, each line with 8 syllables, and the last line repeats the same 4-syllables. I took liberty to slightly change the repeated line. I think it adds more interest to the poem.
Monotetra for Zebras
For its black-white striped attitude, God is laughing a beatitude. I speak prayerful gratitude. Erase bad mood. Embrace calm mood.
Margaret Simon, draft
Please play with words today and leave a small poem in the comments. Encourage other writers with your responses.
Have you ever really focused on a zinnia? They are one of the few flowers that can be grown by seed and withstand high heat. My neighbor, James Edmunds, posted the above photo of a volunteer zinnia. Volunteer means it was not planted by people. It just shows up, and usually in an odd location. I found the one below growing from a crack in a sidewalk.
Zinnia in the sidewalk by Margaret Simon
Reminds me of the Leonard Cohen lyric, “There is a crack, a crack in everything That’s how the light gets in.”
I’m also drawn to the flower in a flower of a zinnia’s center. There are multiple florets. These are important to the reproduction of the flower and most likely the cause of volunteers.
Please join me today in musing on zinnias and cracks and light and anything else that is on your mind. Leave a small poem in the comments. Encourage other writers with response comments. Thanks for being here.
Patience
Focus on the crack Feel the throb of pain Plant a tiny seed
Molly Hogan posted this wonderful photo of a pigeon hanging out at Fort Popham in Phippsburg, Maine. Molly finds a variety of places to practice her photography in her place on the earth. Birds are often her subject. You can see more photos on her Instagram and Facebook pages.
When I first looked at this photo, I thought (assumed) the yellow spots were wildflowers, but on closer inspection, they are stains on the stone wall. I did a quick Google and found that it’s maritime sunburst lichen, nurtured by the droppings of birds. So, in essence there is a symbiotic relationship here between bird and wall, pigeon and lichen. Isn’t the natural world fascinating?
Consider joining me in musing today about this photo. Leave a small poem (or even random thoughts) in the comments. Encourage other writers with your comments.
On the rock of my past, a pigeon perches on my soul filling me with a sunburst of your love.
Margaret Simon, draft
A little note of connection: Molly and I both lost our fathers in 2022. We have shared lots of grief poems. When I was deep in my grief last May, a prothonotary warbler came to my window. I had never seen one close up. I gasped and thought immediately of Dad. Of course, every thought was of him, but I latched onto yellow as the color for him.
This summer I have been walking every day. It has been fulfilling in more ways than the exercise. I’m getting to know my neighbors. The other day I walked and talked with a former student. He’s all grown up with grown up kids. When did that happen?
This is the time of year that crepe myrtles are in bloom. I played with the Portrait mode on my Iphone camera. I like how this one focuses on the blossoms.
What inspires you in the summer? Please write a small summer poem in the comments and encourage other writers here.
beyond the garden gate crepe myrtle tree blooms sprinkling summer with pink snow.
I spent the weekend in Ridgeland, MS just north of Jackson. I stayed in a hotel near a lake and walked each morning both for exercise and meditation. I took some video while walking. This morning I wrote a haiku and created a video using Canva.
Today is the longest day…summer solstice. Think about what this day means to you. Add your own small poem in the comments. Please click over to this post about my personal fundraiser for the Alzheimer’s Association in honor of my mother’s 87th birthday.
Happy Summer! As the sun rises toward the summer solstice, today I’m offering a swallowtail butterfly from Mary Lee Hahn. Mary Lee inspires me in many ways. She’s a wonderful poet, teacher, gardener, critique partner, presentation collaborator, and friend. Recently, she has been watching her overwintering swallowtails emerge. I’ve only had this happen once in my life and its quite amazing. The brown, dead looking chrysalis lasts a long time. And by some miracle of nature, it emerges once the temperatures warm up.
Nature always fascinates me. This week my grandchildren and I are exploring nature every day at Simon Family Camp (We even have an official t-shirt). The cicadas are alive and “yowd!” Every day we find another exoskeleton to add to our collection. I’m exhausted but having the time of my life with Leo, 4.5, Thomas, 3.5, and Stella, 2.5. Explore is the theme of this inaugural family camp. Yesterday we discovered a mountain. The mountain was a dirt pile at a neighbor’s house covered with a tarp. When the boys started to throw dirt clods, we moved on with our hike.
Leo and Thomas discover a mountain!
I don’t usually choose two pictures for this photo prompt, but I know that some of my readers who write are more naturalist than grandparent. Bonus points if you can combine the two images.
Write a small poem in the comments and give encouraging feedback to other writers. Most of all, have fun!
We can be explorers, conquerers, one-of-a-kind aviators lifting our strong bodies above the world while holding out our wings in kindness.
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She is a retired elementary gifted teacher who writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 