In these first few weeks of summer, I find myself lingering. Taking my time on my morning walk to stop and take a picture, visit with a neighbor, enjoy the bird songs. I linger over morning coffee. I know this is how it should be, but there’s this little mouse in my brain that thinks I should accomplish things. I sing to myself “It is Well”.
When peace like a river, attendeth my way When sorrows like sea billows roll Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say It is well, it is well, with my soul
It is well With my soul It is well, it is well with my soul
Audrey Assad
Peace is my one little word for 2024, so I pay attention. Peace comes to me in songs, in the sounds of the birds, in the slowing down of summer.
When I stopped to take pictures in my neighbor’s garden, she said, “Now write a haiku.” She laughed, but that is what I did. Haiku is a perfect form for peaceful nature noticing.
Canopy of oak arms reaching, tossing tumbling light– peace attends my soul. photo and haiku by Margaret Simon
Freckled lily blossom Lonely lighthouse beacon Pool of goldfish beams photo and haiku by Margaret Simon
Welcome to Wednesday This Photo Wants to Be a Poem Day. While you are here, take a moment to be in/ with the featured photograph. When you feel moved to write, write a small poem inspired by the photo. Leave some or all of your creation in a comment. Respond to other writers with positive feedback.
Today’s photo was taken by Molly Hogan. She is a teacher-poet-photographer friend in Maine. When I first saw and saved this photo, I hadn’t seen the full reflection in the water. I’m not sure where this photo was located, but I want to be there today. Don’t you?
God encircles us rainbow stretched over water glows endless hope
When winter turns to spring, we often have fog. Fog can be dangerous, but it is also quite beautiful and intriguing. What is really there that we cannot see?
I found this photo on Instagram from Marshall Ramsey who is a cartoonist living in Mississippi. His cartoons are often published in the Clarion-Ledger of Jackson, MS.
I was also intrigued by this quote that Georgia Heard posted.
In my classroom, we collect good and thought-provoking quotes. Quotes can lead us to our own thoughts. Take some time for yourself, the poet in you, to think on all these things: the photo, the quote, what is currently happening in your life. Let’s write together. Post your small poems in the comments, and encourage other writers with your words.
I seek a portal to new possibility slow reveal of me
Margaret Simon, draft
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Karen Edmisten is gathering Poetry Friday posts here.
I am still riding the wave of a silent retreat last weekend. I wrote about it for Slice of Life and This Photo Wants to be a Poem. Our guide, my friend Susan, gave us a small notebook. The jottings I made are feeding my poetic soul while I busily prepare for NCTE next week.
One of the meditations took place around a lotus pond.
The Lotus Pond The lotus is a flower that grows in muddy ponds and swamps. It is a symbol of spiritual growth and enlightenment. In the midst of difficult or chaotic circumstances, one can remain grounded and find inner peace and clarity.
photo by Margaret Simon, lotus flower in a sugar kettle.
Lotus Water
Mindful listening gazing every moment-change Nothing can be forced
I wrote about finding beauty yesterday for Slice of Life and Spiritual Journey. Along with the post, I wrote a haiku based on the scientific name for Goldenrod. I enjoy writing with word play. For the haiku, I embedded the name into the words of the poem. The form is similar to taking a word for a walk posted on Ethical ELA here by Anna J. Small Roseboro. She suggested taking an abstract word and writing it as the first word in the first line, second word in the next line, and so on until the word becomes the last word in the line. Six lines of six words each.
Of course, as always, you are welcome to enter this prompt in any way that works for you. Please leave a small poem in the comments and encourage other writers with your responses.
Solidago*
Meadow soul soother I turn toward your day light Don’t go. Don’t go.
Margaret Simon
*scientific name for goldenrod, solidus meaning “to make whole”
This is the poem I wrote for the word walk prompt:
Sympathy begins with sad eye contact. Then sympathy reads your sad thoughts. I express sympathy for your loss. You may scorn sympathy as insincere. But I see you, sympathy, walking along the worn road of sympathy.
What is bringing you joy? In her newsletter The Good Stuff, Maggie Smith wrote about finding beauty. She called it a “beauty emergency.” An abundance of beauty is available to us everyday if we choose to notice. Even on my sickest days this summer, I could look out my window to find the great white egret who daily feeds across the bayou. Even now I can see a flash of white as he flies by. Sometimes I watch him slowly wade through the water. Something about that presence of purity renews me.
Renewal happens even if we forget to ask for it. God knows how to renew all life.
“To find a new world, maybe you have to have lost one. Maybe you have to be lost. The dance of renewal, the dance that made world, was always danced here at the edge of things, on the brink, on the foggy coast.”
― Ursula K Le Guin
I am still in the process of renewal, walking a fine line between dark and light. I have to find the strength each day to see the light, to look for it, all the while knowing darkness is close by. Illness does that to a person. The fear of it all coming back again is real. I notice the fear, name it for what it truly is, then let it go. I must do this to bring joy to the forefront. And renewal comes as I find beauty in ordinary days.
Full moon peeking out from the clouds
A colleague complained to me about an incessant vine that climbs her brick walls. “The guy has to come every 3 months to deal with it, even in this drought.” We can complain about the onslaught of weeds in the yard, or we can take pictures of them and find their beauty, their life, the way they insist on being here.
Weed in the grass insists on being noticed!
I believe that God gives us access to beauty all the time. We are meant to feel curious, to wonder about ordinary things, to be present and renewed, touched by beauty and joy.
Goldenrod, photo by Margaret Simon
Solidago*
Meadow soul soother I turn toward your day light Don’t go. Don’t go.
Margaret Simon
*scientific name for goldenrod, solidus meaning “to make whole”
Our friend Molly loves to rise early and with camera in hand, head to the nearest water source. Morning light illuminated some mysterious bubbles on her recent excursion. I marvel at her photography skills and her ability to see beauty. Let’s take a moment to stand in awe, to see beauty, to feel alive.
Write a small poem in the comments and respond with encouragement to other writers.
Bubbles by Molly Hogan
Just below surface mysterious, magical breath of life bubbles
I follow teacher/writer/photographer Kim Douillard who lives in California. I envy her beach photos. Images of the beach take me away. They have the power to relax me. This photo brought me joy. One of my grandsons is particularly attracted to bubbles. If he is having a tough time, a single session of bubble time will soothe him. What is it about bubbles that is both fascinating and calming?
This summer it has rained every day here in South Louisiana. The effects of climate change are here, warmer air, warmer oceans, more water vapor=more rain. We are waterlogged. However, the plants seem to love it. The trees are greener than ever, covered in resurrection fern that only turns green when it is wet. I’ve managed a daily walk between downpours. I took this picture yesterday of the bark on one of our oak trees.
Live Oak, photo by Margaret Simon
There’s imagery here, metaphor maybe? Find your own way into a small poem and leave it in the comments. Be sure to respond to other writers with encouraging words.
This old tree frosted white with lichen brightens a trail to fairy heaven
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 