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Spiritual Journey gathering is with Jone today. She offered us the topic of growth.

A friend of mine who knows I love butterflies called to say she had black swallowtail caterpillars all over her dill plant. I said, “I’m coming.” She gave me the whole pot. We have 5 caterpillars on the plant in a butterfly net in my classroom. I pulled out magnifying sheets and invited my students into an inquiry about the caterpillars. We started with what do you already know and then wrote 3-5 questions.

I think the whole process is nature’s magic, but when one student wanted to know what actually happens in the cocoon/chrysalis, we learned that the caterpillar ingests itself. Ew!

Grief can be like this really messy process. Growth only comes from going through the messy muck of grief. I often feel like I’m not doing it right or well. What is really meant when someone says, “She’s handling it well.” I tell you no one handles it well. No one! We handle it how we handle it. Sometimes that means gripping hard to the steering wheel and other times, it’s walking among the wildflowers weeping.

And just when you think you’ve gone the distance, you’ve gotten through, something else comes along to topple you over.

If we stop growing, grieving, changing, we stop living. Growth is happening every day. Spring reveals to us that even the plants that look bare and dormant will leaf out, will bloom, will grow. Don’t ignore the process. Tend it as you would a tiny, fragile caterpillar.

Life
after Ellen Bass, Relax

Bad things are going to happen.
You will leave the milk out;
It will sour.

Bad things that leave you helpless.
A newborn cannot breathe on his own.
You will pray.

Bad things are inevitable.
Some doctor will miss something important.
You will suffer.

Bad things stop us in our tracks.
A squirrel will eat the coolant hose again.
You will be stuck.

But one evening when you’re bone tired,
you will watch a video of your granddaughter.
You will laugh until you cry.

Let it all come. You are living a life.

Margaret Simon

One of my students brought a small photo album to school and shared with me this photo of her as a baby, probably between 18 months and 2 years old. She was a flower girl in a wedding. There are so many things to love about this photo. The facial expression, her rosy baby cheeks, and the celebration of love. So I took a photo of the photo, which doesn’t make for great quality, but you get the idea. May Day is a time for celebrating the warmth of spring and the blooming of flowers. (I do not have permission for the use of the photo.)

Flower girl

To honor the Asian tradition, I wrote a Luc Bat. The syllable count is 6, 8 (luc bat translates to six, eight) and in the 8 syllable line, the 6th syllable rhymes. There is no limit to the number of lines, but it typically ends on the 8 syllable line.

Our song begins with praise
fills temple as we raise our one
voice. Flower-scented hands
held together by bands of love.

Margaret Simon, draft

Please respond to this photo with a small poem in the comments. Encourage other writers with your comments.

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

A piece of paper can be history. When our girls were growing up, we taught them to write thank you notes by doing them regularly. And we usually made them by hand. My oldest daughter continues that tradition with her children, especially Leo who is five now. He can draw well and can spell his own name. A handmade card can become a piece of history.

Last week my friend Jim was texting me about Maggie, my oldest daughter, asking for her contact and when she would be at her office in town. I had no idea what this was about. Later Maggie texted me for Jim’s address. I still was not sure what was going on, but I figured Maggie was writing him a note.

Then I received two pictures from her in our sisters group text.

Maggie sent photos of the relic from 1993. Our family had attended the first Live Oak Tree Festival, which was held again this weekend. It’s now a part of our city’s long list of spring festivals. Jim created it after Hurricane Andrew (circa 1992) had taken many of our precious live oak trees. The live oaks saved New Iberia from the complete devastation of that category 5 storm. We owed them a festival. Now in its 31st year, it’s grown to more than a petting zoo, donkey rides, and paper making crafts. I was touched by Jim’s gesture. I wouldn’t be surprised if Maggie frames the handmade thank you note.

Dear Mr. Jim,

Thank you for the tree festival. My favorite part was the papermakeing and Katherine liked the African dancers in the mud. Martha’s favorate thing was the glueing fabrik leaves on trees and the music. We hope you do it again next year!

Sincerely,
Maggie and family

The Poetry Friday Roundup is with Ruth at There is no such thing as a Godforsaken town.
Rainbow photo by Molly Hogan

This week is state testing week, so I did not pull my gifted students out from their regular classrooms. I’m on stand-by to help if needed. But I do get to see my youngest ones. William, first grade, was only recently placed in gifted services. His gifted brain is so full of ideas that he can barely settle on one thing. I asked him to work with me on a haiku about a rainbow. We talked about how a haiku form captures a single moment in time, usually about nature, and has 3 lines, short, long, short. We played around with word order and placement of his ideas. Then he came out with the word “surprise.” Ah yes, that’s it!

Reflex (relects) in the warter (water).
a rainbow comes out of clouds.
surprise in the sky

William’s first haiku, 1st grade

Carson in 2nd grade has been working with me all year long. He’s more independent in his writing, but still needs reassurance. I showed him a video from Mystery Science about how the rain becomes a prism to refract the white light into a colorful rainbow.

Rainbows are still a mystery to me even though I have this knowledge. When I see an actual rainbow in the sky, I often take a picture. My husband knows to stop for rainbows. If you are drawn to them, to Molly’s amazing photo, and want to add your writing to the collection, go back to this post on Wednesday.

Sunlight prism
in the water makes rainbows
arch of colors

Carson, 2nd grade

While I was checking my Fanschool post, I realized that even though Adelyn was not coming to class, she checked on our weekly “This Photo Wants to be a Poem” post and wrote. She is crazy about all things mythological. Can you tell?

The great color arc,
stretching above us.
As water vapor shimmers bright
in shining light,
Iris glows.

Adelyn, 5th grade
After a skipped day on Thursday (no worries, just busy life), Karin introduces a new character.
Photo by Molly Hogan.

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

Margaret Simon, draft
Molly has the Progressive Poem today.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

Monday was Earth Day and the weather could not have been more perfect. A cool front came through, so our temps were in the 60’s. I took each group of students outside for writing time. I opened the Merlin app and we talked about the birds’ songs we heard. It was a good day for listening, teaching, and writing. State testing starts Wednesday, so I was happy for the opportunity to sit outside and forget our worries.

Kailyn’s notebook page

Earth Day is also my father’s death day. He loved double numbers; his birthday was 11/11/33. He passed away on 4/22/22. Ethical ELA’s prompt gave me the space I needed to write about him and his love of trees.

Dark Clouds by John Gibson

Earth Day Dedication

My father’s compass pointed
to the trees, how the branches
bent and blocked light
shadows dotting landscape.

Once he told me trees grounded
him in the present, reliable–
long standing
safety for Mother Earth’s children.

Yesterday I heard the “kow-kow-kow”
of a yellow-billed cuckoo
stopping in our tree from its journey
across the Gulf.

The journey of life,
as the cuckoo calls,
is hard and easy. Some days
you find rest, take a breath,
sigh for Mother Earth
and sing loud.
(Margaret Simon, draft)

Janet Fagel has the Kidlit Progressive Poem today here.

Thank you again to Margaret, friend and host, all the poets growing this poem day by day and Irene who began it long ago. Where will our two go from here? Head to Mary Lee’s tomorrow (whom I happily get to see this coming weekend in Ohio!) I love the Poetry Friday community even when I am away. Inspiration, creativity, poetry and friendship stemming from our devotion to children and their growth. I recognize so many friends participating and am happy to be a part of this.

cradled in stars, our planet sleeps,
clinging to tender dreams of peace
sister moon watches from afar,
singing lunar lullabies of hope.

almost dawn, I walk with others,
keeping close, my little brother.
hand in hand, we carry courage
escaping closer to the border

My feet are lightning;
My heart is thunder.
Our pace draws us closer
to a new land of wonder.

I bristle against rough brush—
poppies ahead brighten the browns.
Morning light won’t stay away—
hearts jump at every sound.

I hum my own little song
like ripples in a stream
Humming Mami’s lullaby
reminds me I have her letter

My fingers linger on well-worn creases,
shielding an address, a name, a promise–
Sister Moon will find always us
surrounding us with beams of kindness

But last night as we rested in the dusty field,
worries crept in about matters back home.
I huddled close to my brother. Tears revealed
the no-choice need to escape. I feel grown.

Leaving all I’ve ever known
the tender, heavy, harsh of home.
On to maybes, on to dreams,
on to whispers we hope could be.

But I don’t want to whisper! I squeeze Manu’s hand.
“¡Más cerca ahora!” Our feet pound the sand.
We race, we pant, we lean on each other
I open my canteen and drink gratefully

Thirst is slaked, but I know we’ll need
more than water to achieve our dreams.
Nights pass slowly, but days call for speed
through the highs and the lows, we live with extremes

We enter a village the one from Mami’s letter, 
We find the steeple; food, kindly people, and shelter.

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Heidi Mordhorst at my juicy little universe.

For Poem in Your Pocket Day, I invited Marcie Flinchum Atkins to join my students by Zoom. We were able to get a small 30 minute window of time while she could visit. What a treat!

Marcie is a master at haiku, and no wonder, she writes one every day. She usually writes in a small notebook to photos that she has taken. Beautiful photos!

Her easy-going way led to a comfortable, safe environment for writing. My students wrote. I wrote. Like Marcie, I wanted to use a photo and Canva to design my haiku for publication. Maybe one day I’ll send them out on postcards.

At one of my schools, we are rejuvenating the butterfly garden. The purple salvia has come back after winter and is thick and covered with blossoms. We’ve been spending recess time there among these flowers, tilling and planting new feeding plants. Avalyn, my garden partner, wrote a haiku and asked me to put it on Canva like mine.

The Kidlit Progressive Poem is with Catherine Flynn today. Check on our little immigrant hero.
What is National Poem in Your Pocket Day?

What poem will you carry?

I am taking along a bit of kindness from Danusha Laméris Small Kindnesses.

Kidlit Progressive Poem is moving along with apprehension and worry for our two refugees.
See the latest line at Opposite of Indifference with Tabatha Yeats.

Taste a Bite of Poetry
after Mark Strand

I have been dining on poetry
that tastes like cookies.

Someone pressed in a dash
of salty tears, balancing the sweet.

Someone topped them with chocolate.
The brown ink stains my fingers,

So I carry this verse with me,
eating bit by bit,
filling my wistful soul.
@Margaret Simon, draft

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com
School Butterfly Garden

We’ve started getting the school butterfly garden ready for spring. I was a bit overwhelmed and excited to see all the plants that survived the winter. I was particularly taken by the purple salvia which last year was a small percentage of planter box space and now is practically taking over. But it’s so beautiful.

A closeup of purple salvia

Yesterday on Ethical ELA, the prompt from Dave Wooly was a new form to me: Kwansaba, a praise poem based on #7. Seven lines, seven words, seven or fewer letters each word. The letter count stumped me because I wanted to write about the butterfly garden. Butterfly is 9 letters long, off limits. I felt like I was putting together a complicated puzzle where the pieces wouldn’t fit together. I’m sharing my effort, however, along with my garden partner Avalyn’s garden celebration.

Purple Salvia Kwansaba

In our school garden, spring rises in
purple salvia opening with violet nectar.

Beauty abounds here, left after winter’s freeze
bidding hummers, bees, moths, pollen seekers come.

I want to plant a home garden–
enrich, connect place to place where life,
a sense of hope, comes richly back to us. 

by Margaret Simon

Avalyn’s Garden Kwansaba

Garden

Such a pretty flower, dancing flowers behold.
The wind cannot uproot even in storms.
You are such beauty I cannot explain.
You are the scent I want to smell.
You stand for happy, so much color!
Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet
A praise poem to all the flowers. 

How are the flower gardens doing in your part of the world? Please consider writing a small poem in the comments and encouraging other writers with your comments. Happy Spring!