Door Prose Poem

       I stand by the whistling door and smell the wire of the screen. I open the door to the refrigerator and enjoy the predictable tendrils of cold that lurk out.    I am a door on hinges.  I swing open and shut. I am a door between a restaurant and a kitchen.  I swing open widely, someone comes out with a cake on a tray.  Then I lick the doorframe back and forth, back and forth, back and forth more quietly now.

Snow Flurry

Swirling around me are snowflakes, flurries, the wind - all part of what makes winter music. I want to harness the power of the wind, that power that can lift up the tiny particles before they become the immense and slippery ground cover. I want to know the science for capturing snowflakes, the art that allows scientists to examine them one by one and preserve them through photographs and prints. I want to walk out of this snow flurry with something exact and preserved that I can share with others. The exactness with which God has made each snowflake is something I want to investigate beyond all doubt.

back to work

Gearing up to go back to work. Why did it have to get so cold right before I am supposed to go back? I feel entropy of the warm couch. The dishes gathered around the sink watch me evilly. My suitcase still lies open from my trip. I've got to get ready to go back - it's like balancing a checkbook, being ready for work is part of the equation. Am I shallow if what I really want is a whole closet full of new clothes? At least a pair of new pants would be nice. All I ask for is a pair of pants that can go in the washer and don't really need to be ironed that much.

Facing the Difficult

What to do with the challenge that that we feel is taking us away from happiness? How do we meet that knock at our confidence and patience with maturity and kindness? When a situation does seem to take away our happiness do we have the right to complain? I think I could philosophize about patience here, but that's not really what's left at the end of the day. What's left at the end of the day is how I walk away from the problem, deftly sticking it into my pocket like a treasure to be found on another day. What's left at the end of the day is swiftly turning a corner into another reality, like the feeling of when it suddenly begins to rain.

Do something about the cars

The cars rumble away from here, away from my back door balcony. They rumble at a street far away, but not so far away that I can't see them. They rumble away to their jobs where they will sit in parking lots while their owners recalibrate in office buildings. They rumble away and then another one comes and another one comes. Above is the sunrise. The clouds are plated in gold that flakes off as the water rises from the earth and the stories of the people rise. Inside the cars and office buildings people's days are different from each others. My cats sit on the balcony and it starts to rain. Lightly. Not even so much rain now, just a chilly summer morning.

No new nails for you!!

Today I wish ..... Today I wish I lived in Beverly Hills or some other posh neighborhood in California and I could just go the coffee shop. Wait....I can just go the coffee shop. Right around the corner however is a pile waiting for me. Literally behind me is everything I need to bring into my classroom.!! It is one tremendous pile. I'm like the ant. I'm moving this stuff and it's heavy. I'm going to be met by another ant that helps me out along the way. I firmly have to believe that or else it's going to be too much to try and get this into the classroom. As teachers, we have to start the ground sprinting, or at least jogging as part of a marathon. My nails can get done on another day. This year, I think, is going to be about working hard.

Artiste I Am Not

It's tricky for me because I always get ideas for stories and artwork. I am so busy I never think I can bring them to fruition. And also, I don't want to do the work on them. I know how much work it takes to create something in that way. Then there are other times I just enjoy the beauty around me. I feel paintings, enjoy their source of life that they give. I imbibe. I feel refreshed. There is so much pressure all around me to be an artiste, to conceptualize something. I feel scared that if I don't nothing will be left behind. However, it is being in the moment that is really the most uttermost important thing. Enjoying and looking and learning are the most essential.