We gathered together
moms, dads, grandparents
lots of baby siblings
to honor
our kindergarteners
with pomp and circumstance
a milestone
of accomplishment
here we are,
a normal crowd
cheering, applauding
babies adding their
newfound voices
then giving an ovation
for the second graders
who were present
and assisting
because their ceremony
didn’t happen
in the spring
of 2020
little morning faces
shining with pride
as their families stand
honoring, rejoicing
celebrating
all of our
living through
Her pride’s on display
alongside her rainbow fish
in a gallery
celebrating creation
the heartwork of our children
fantasia
nounMusic.
1. a composition in fanciful or irregular form or style.
2. a potpourri of well-known airs arranged with interludes and florid embellishments.—Dictionary.com
They’re still here,
the finches
with the nest
in the magnolia wreath
on my front door
four weeks after
their Easter-egg hatching
I feel certain
these babies can fly
yet they linger
every little singer
adding its glory
to each new day
how I wish
this gold
could stay
Short recording of the finch fantasia
It is the season
of newness
of flowering
of fresh color
of cloudless sky
so blue it hurts
it is the season
of grass
of earth
of birth
of birds
of Eastertide hatchlings
leaving nests
to wing their way
through the world
it is the season
of contemplation
of existence
of life
of purpose
of time
not standing still
and therefore being
infinitely
piercingly
precious
Micah contemplates pink sorrel and a piece of pine straw
Finch eggs in a nest
on my front door wreath
captivated me
to such a degree
that I failed to see
what was happening
outside the back door:
a bright flash of blue
disappearing in
the little bird church
-bluebird occupants
brought Easter eggs, too.
On my back deck, Easter afternoon: a male bluebird is either bringing food to his mate or helping to feed babies. He entered and exited multiple times; once I was sure he was flying off with a bright blue piece of eggshell. These are the first-ever occupants of the little bird church, which has just been sitting on the deck as decor. I’ve seen the female as well. So hoping to get photos of bluebird babies soon (I need a better camera…this was taken with my phone through the kitchen window and screen).
My soul rejoices in this proliferation of feathered life, that songbirds have chosen my home for their own.
How lovely is your dwelling place,
O Lord of hosts!
My soul longs, yes, faints
for the courts of the Lord;
my heart and flesh sing for joy
to the living God.
Even the sparrow finds a home,
and the swallow a nest for herself,
where she may lay her young,
at your altars, O Lord of hosts,
my King and my God.
Psalm 84: 1-3
In honor of the day, an excerpt of “Jesus Makes Sin Forgivable” by Anne Graham Lotz in Just Give Me Jesus (2000):
The Pharisees couldn’t stand Him
but found they couldn’t stop Him
Satan tried to tempt Him
but found he couldn’t trip Him
Pilate examined Him on trial
but found he couldn’t fault Him
The Romans crucified Him
but found they couldn’t take His life
Death couldn’t handle Him
and the grave couldn’t hold Him.
*******
And a happy Easter haiku for you:
I have no more eggs.
As of this morning, new life.
Dawn exultation.
Here is a variation of my previous post, Eggsultation, in the 4×4 poem form shared by Denise Krebs on Ethical ELA for VerseLove: Four stanzas of four lines, any topic. Note how the lead line moves in the stanzas.
Eggsultation
Exultation:
Finches return
to make a nest
atop the wreath
on my front door
Exultation:
grass artistry
made without hands.
Speckled blue eggs
—one, two, three, four.
Exultation:
tiny new life
incubating.
Morning birdsong
rises skyward:
Eggsultation.
-The continuing saga of Little Blue Egg–
Dear Little Blue Egg,
In all the generations of finches
hatched in wreaths on my front door
I have never known
a mother to lay just one egg
and leave
but that is what your mother did
last Sunday.
Here you’ve been ever since
resting in your nest,
forlorn in the freezing cold
day after day after day
one blue egg
one blue door
one long blue silence
one blue human
(that would be me, Franna,
sad self-appointed custodian
checking on you every morning)
until Friday
when, out of the blue,
there were TWO
of you!
On Saturday, three!
On Sunday, no more…
although I heard
the most beautiful singing
at my door
then on Monday… FOUR.
Little Blue Eggs galore.
I do not know
where your parents were
during those five days
of your cold blue lonesomeness
or how your mother could withhold
her charming clutch
for so long
but I know this thing:
your father and mother sing
every morning
like tiny angels
in eggsultation
and so
do I.
Little Blue Egg gets a sibling five days later
A quartet of Little Blue Eggs… joy!
A short clip of the parents’ music… it echoes throughout the house.
No wonder that finches symbolize joy or that their collective noun is a “charm.”
Some sources say only males sing; others say females sing in spring.
Listening to their bright morningsong, I am reminded
of these lyrics from O Come, All Ye Faithful:
Sing, choirs of angels,
sing in exultation…
*******
with thanks to Two Writing Teachers for the Tuesday Slice of Life Story Challenge
note:
the letter to Little Blue Egg (alone no more!) is an epistolary poem
for Day Five of National Poetry Month
with thanks to Andrew Moore, host of Sunday’s Open Write on Ethical ELA. Andrew challenged teacher-poets to compose around lament plus celebration (these don’t have to be related; this is meant to be exercise in writing freely, in any form). He writes: “My inspiration comes from a distinct lack of good sadness, grief, and lament beside a healthy laugh and looking forward to the changes the future may bring.” The poem can be as light-hearted, silly, or serious as the poet desires.
Here’s where I am today:
Remains
Today, I mourn
the destruction of trees along my rural byways
the displacement of wildlife
the destruction of Ukraine
the displacement of her people
the systemic demoralization of teachers
the systemic misplacement of trust
Today, I celebrate
the remnants
of trees
wildlife
Ukraine
her people
teachers
trust
Today, I hope
for restoration
in revelation
and reverence
before all
become revenants
“The Elephant – great destruction.” Public domain. Note the trees, the cities, the elephant all in stages of disappearing … elephants, by the way, symbolize wisdom, memory, prosperity…
******
with thanks also to Two Writing Teachers for the Slice of Life Story Challenge every day in the month of March.
Have you ever seen an angel
sporting sparkly wings
on a festive llama dress
with maroon Chuck Taylors
and assorted barrettes
seriously chomping
a mouthful of candy cane?
I have.
One came to my house
on Christmas Eve.
Perhaps you’ll see one, too,
if you only believe.
❤ Merry Christmas ❤
lit bits and pieces 