poem for my cousin although she won't know it...

My cousin's eldest daughter graduated High School a few weeks ago. She remained in her hometown, in the house of family friends, while she finished her senior year. My cousin's husband had been transferred to a state many hours away, and as a family, they agreed to let her stay behind, in the school she loved, with people who would continue to love her like a daughter in their absence. I don't want to think of the pain this caused my cousin and her husband, but I am proud of their daughter for continuing to excell in academics and athletics, and who is ready to go on to her life in college and beyond. Her rhythm is already something to see; what wonders are in store for us ahead?

Raise a glass of something cool (hey, it's hot here in Carolina) to my cousin, and all the graduates of 2006:

the drum

daddy says the world
is a drum tight
and hard
and i told him
i'm gonna beat out
my own rhythm

----nikki giovanni

Poetry Wednesday

On this, the eve of the penultimate day of my school year, and the English Language Arts final exam, a poem to enjoy and think about:

As Pippa Lilted

Good things will happen
when the green flame of spring
goes up into hills where
we'd have our ranch if
we had the money.

It will be soon--
we'll hold our arms ready,
long toward the table
like Cezanne's people,
and let the light pour.

Just wait a little more--
let new errors cancel
the things we did wrong.
That's the right way for us:
our errors will dance.

It will be soon;
good things will happen.

---William Stafford


Happy Wednesday all!

Just because...

Portfolios are due Wednesday. From the ones already handed in, I am in for a treat over the next several days of presentations and grading. No, it's not sarcastic Tuesday either. For tonight though, a poem to ponder,
just because...


The Magic Mountain

A book opens. People come out, bend
this way and talk, ponder, love, wander around
while pages turn. Where did the plot go?
Why did someone sing just as the train
went by? Here come chapters with landscape all over
whatever happens when people meet. Now
a quiet part: a hospital glows in the dark.
I don't think that woman with the sad gray eyes
will ever come back. And what does it mean when
the Italian has so many ideas? Maybe
a war is coming. The book is ending. Everyone
has a little tremolo in them; all
are going to die and it's cold and the snow, and the clear
air. They took someone away. It's ending,
the book is ending. But I thought--never mind. It closes.


-----William Stafford