Daughter, Mother – Spring, Summer

As Mother’s Day approaches, I. have been thinking a lot about my mom, Vivian, who died at the age of 91, almost ten years ago. She was a dress designer, seamstress, artist, and teacher. What I didn’t know until this week, was that she was a poet.  Poetry was my father’s realm, so I guess she kept her poetry writing private.

No Reason to Fear the Wind

Spring is normally a busy time for me at school.  I’m in charge of standardized testing, grade placement, and wrapping up all student support documents for the year.  Everything in my entire being yearns to resist this regimentation.  Rather, my body and mind desperately need to relax, refresh, and find things to celebrate.

Stirring the Senses – Part 2

Like each child, like each snowflake, each poem was different, exquisite in its creation.  They took their experiences of snow and thought about how it looked, smelled, sounded, tasted, and felt. They thought hard, they experimented with words, and they formed meaning to share with others.  This time to play is necessary and important for writers.