I can always count on Georgia Heard for getting me through a writing slump. She sends out a monthly prompt calendar. Each prompt is easily accessible from where I sit at my kitchen table. The prompt for July 8th was “Describe a place by what’s missing from it.”
My gaze went directly to the window to the dead satsuma tree outside. We lost it in the big freeze of 2025. I’ve asked my yard man (my husband) to let it be. I was hoping to attract downy woodpeckers. In the spring passion vine sprang up around the trunk of the tree. As I had hoped, the space has become alive with bees and butterflies and birds.
Dead Tree is Alive
With passion vine open purple flowers for fritillary lighting. A suet feeder invaded by raccoon fingers lies open and empty. Old satsuma leafless sweet fruit a memory. Lichen clings, fluffs in misty rain.
You are holding hope of feathers on bare branches, Alive.
I hear chirps of Pine Siskin hiding in the bushes, watch seeds of cottonwood fly like moths on fluffy wings—
Hold the view of Pacific waters chanting over wishing stones, calling me to inhale.
Open a door to a free poem-of-the-day— Here is Pádraig’s “Our Lady of the Garden”.
Thank you, universe, for all this time with you.
Poem found in a poetry box in Port Townsend, Washington.Illustration by Leo, age 7
This Mamére has been busy this summer. In early June, we took a trip with two of our three daughters and their families to the Pacific Northwest. The weather was absolutely gorgeous and cool. I found poetry everywhere, on trails, in town squares, and in poetry boxes.
This week I was in charge of Leo, my oldest grandson who is seven. Seven changes everything! He can read and write and walk 2 miles in the heat. We took a long walk to our local city park. He humored me by helping me write a poem about our walk. He illustrated. You can see a video of him reading the poem on my Substack.
I am currently in Florida on a work trip with my daughter and her son, Thomas. Thomas and I had a fun day yesterday playing in the waves and making friends in the hotel pool. He makes friends so easily which is helpful to his babysitter grandma.
Yesterday afternoon a storm rolled in. I loved sitting on the safe balcony and watching the clouds.
Watching the Storm at the Beach
Becomes a pastime when you’re with a grandson who craves your constant attention.
Be open to the possibility of storms. Stand in the rain and let it cool your body into shivers and shakes.
Then return to a warm bath and Spider-Man pajamas to watch Argentina play in the World Cup cheering them on, only because you like the color blue.
Margaret Simon, draft
Please consider writing a poem today in the comments. I will be driving back to Louisiana and look forward to reading them.
Our view of the Elwha River and Olympic Mountains, Port Angeles, Washington
When we first arrived in the Pacific Northwest and awoke to an amazing view of the Olympic Mountains from the AirBnB, I thought I would write poetry every day on our trip. That didn’t happen as we got busier with the family, day hikes, town shopping, river rock throwing (children love a good game of throwing rocks). However on that early June morning, I opened Audrey Gidman’s prompts and wrote a poem using a flower as the title, inspired by James Wright’s Milkweed. For the most part, I wanted to capture the essence of place in the amazing peaceful scene of the Olympic Mountains.
Lupine
While I looked beyond the window lost in blue-green of Crescent Lake, I sat in longing. Tall Douglas fir scented the air of Christmases long ago.
I look up now. The view is changed. What was color is a wild warmth seeking my sincerity— a vision of bright red strawberries sweeter than the sun.
Click the image to enlarge. North Olympic Library System Poetry Walk
Last week I was on vacation with my family in the Pacific Northwest. One of our hikes, The Spruce Railroad Trail in Olympic National Park, included a Poetry Walk. I took pictures of the panels and wrote a found poem from them. I invite you to do the same. Found poems are fun. Write the lines that grab you in some way (an image you relate to, words you love to say) and write them in an order that is pleasing to you.
Here is a draft I wrote in my notebook:
Crescent Lake Found Poem
Stenciled on the petal of a bluebell the earth remembered me my thoughts light as moths smell like grass and salt smooth home- the river. Margaret Simon, draft
After months of drought, we’ve recently had an onslaught of rain. One of the most miraculous plants in the South is resurrection fern. It has a symbiotic relationship with live oaks. When the air is dry and no rain falls, it’s hardly noticeable, brown and dead looking. However, when we have days and days of humidity and rain, rain, rain, the fern pops up with its bright green fronds covering the branches and living in beauty. It seems to say, “Ah, yes!”
I took this photo of our grandmother oak near the bayou. She is 250+ years old. Her arms drape wide and hold a rope swing that many a child (and adult) have ridden on. She is featured on a live oak tree bike tour that our friend Jim leads every spring.
She’s also made mention of in many of my poems. I never tire of taking her photo or writing about her.
Turning to a random page in “Dictionary for a Better World” by Irene Latham and Charles Waters, I chose a cinquain form. (2, 4, 6, 8, 2)
Sometimes bravery looks like fern on an old oak coming to life only after hard rain. Margaret Simon, draft
Please write a small poem today and leave it in the comments. Respond to others with kind encouragement.
Last weekend I participated in the Open Write with Ethical ELA. Erica Johnson’s prompt “Talk about Trees” inspired me to praise the state tree of both of my home states, Mississippi and Louisiana.
My morning walk these days takes me through our local City Park that skirts the bayou and also nestles a pond where there are rumors of a lurking gator. This little guy, about 12 inches or so, had his nose in the air and was totally still, allowing me to come close for a photo.
I like turtles. I love to see them lined up on a log sunning themselves. I was researching a poetry book a few years ago and discovered that turtles often ramble up on the top of a gator without a care. Turtles can live a long time in the wild, unless the gator is hungry for turtle soup.
Today, be inspired by this little turtle to write a small poem in the comments. Support other writers with encouragement. Thanks for stopping by.
Bayou-side slider still as a stone statue red-ear beams on point Margaret Simon, draft
I’ve been taking a class in watercolor painting, and I find it challenging. This morning I went to yoga at my friend’s house. She does a private session with a sound bath meditation at the end. During the meditation shavasana, I had a vision of billowing waves of an ocean. I wanted to capture the vision in a watercolor, but I’m not brave enough yet to paint without help. I used a YouTube video to produce the image for my poem today.
The ocean is interesting, but the sailboats…well…ew. I accidentally dribbled some blue, and one thing my instructor said about accidental spots really helped me. He said, “Make them into birds.”
My poem wanted to be a shadorma form. (3, 5, 3, 3, 7, 5)
Waves of sound surround in seaflow billow sails simply free Meditation comes to me— whispers of owl wings.
Margaret Simon, draft
For Mother’s Day, my daughter gave me a beautiful oracle deck. The card I picked today was the owl “Wisdom”.
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 