December is a time of diminishing light. Days are getting shorter. Sunrise is later in the morning. Sunset is earlier in the afternoon. The change of light leads us to winter solstice with more darkness, cooler temperatures. Do you feel the change? Does your mood change? What does diminishing light in the rear view mirror symbolize to you?
Rear view window on a country road (Coteau Road)
Driving on the Coteau Road rushing toward my day,
I looked in the rear view mirror, noticing the rising light.
Beacon to feel the past push me toward future with healing hope.
Margaret Simon, draft
My poetry writing happens early in the morning when the hum of the heater makes me want to pull the covers up and sleep. For This Photo, I draft directly into the post. I accept whatever comes. I hope you will give yourself a moment of meditation and write a small poem draft in the comments. Meet yourself where you are, without judgement. Leave your draft in the comments and encourage each other as writers who give a piece of themselves to the page.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Most days I take the slow, country road route from one school to the other rather than getting on the mad highway. I pass the underpass round-about that has been in some stage of construction all year long. Drive beyond the road where I need to turn because due to said construction, it’s been blocked. Make a u-turn and swing by the corner gas station (sometimes I stop for a Subway salad), and turn right into a grove of trees that transports me to a peaceful country road.
Yesterday there was no one on the road, no one following me, so I stopped at each icon to take a picture. Take a deep breath. Let it out slowly and enjoy the slow ride.
The white cows have been birthing babies. I’ve watched as their herd has grown, how the mothers all tend to the little ones, and how they cluster together like kids out at recess.
The old red barn stands a little crooked, but someone cuts the grass. I secretly wish they would let the wild flowers grow. She seems lonely and old, yet independent and wise. I look her way and smile, resisting the urge to give her a name and throw my hand out of the window and wave.
The horses run and frolic in the fresh spring air. They are frisky and shy, moving quickly away from my presence.
Take a right at the white church. Saint’s truck has been there for weeks doing repairs. I honk and wave to him. He recognizes my car. I hear his familiar laugh as I drive away. This old church is our safe spot for our school’s evacuation. We’ve never had to walk here along the fields of sugarcane, but they will be ready for us if there ever is a need. Praying there is never a need.
Today as I drive this road again, I will be mourning the loss of another school shooting, saying to God “Why?”
My life is a blessing. All lives are precious and should be adored. Prayers help me, the supplicator, but until there is real change, gun control action, my prayers will be futile. When will this madness ever end?
Welcome to This Photo: I hope you are inspired by this photo to write a small poem. Leave it in the comments. Read other small poems and write an encouraging message.
School has started and thus, my itinerant trek from school to school. Last year I found an alternate route that took me through the country. I have come to love this scenic route. In the spring I stopped to take a photo of a barn among wildflowers. One day last week I saw a new calf in the field with the white cows. I passed a few times before I decided to stop. On this particular day no one was anywhere around, so I pulled into the driveway. Momma cow saw me coming and kept a close eye on me, but I spoke to her kindly and was able to get this photo of her new baby.
I drive the same roads every day as I travel between two schools. Both of my schools are rural, and I’ve come to appreciate the calm of the countryside. This spring the black-eyed Susan wildflowers have been in full bloom. Usually I am on a time schedule and can’t stop to take pictures, but recently as I was passing, I put on the brakes and put the car in reverse right there in the middle of the road. I took this photo. It was a bright sunny day and I took it quickly, but the next day the field had been mowed and all the yellow flowers were gone. I realized I should appreciate the present moment. The old adage “Stop to smell the roses.” What else are we given but this moment right now?
Country barn with black-eyed Susan wildflowers, photo by Margaret Simon
Invitation: Share your own poem in the comments and encourage other writers with comments.
No one can tell you what to do. You have to be bold. Some see weeds where others find gold.
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 