It Never Grows Old

It Never Grows Old

Redbud
blooms burst from bark,
fleck the tree with color,
then open into a haze of
purple.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Poetry Friday -- Cinquains

I can't write a poem a day in November, of all months. Nor could I (ever?) write a novel in a month. No NaPo(a day)WriMo or NaNoWriMo for me!

But not one to leave ALL the challenges to everyone else, I have challenged myself to write a poem a week. Not just any old poem, I'm going to try writing one inspired by Tricia's Monday Poetry Stretch. This week, the stretch was to write a cinquain, and Tricia totally rescued this form for me. Lo and behold, cinquains were NOT invented to test a writer's knowledge of the parts of speech! They are more like a Japanese tanka, and follow a syllable pattern in the 5 lines of 2, 4, 6, 8, 2.

It was threatening to rain on Wednesday after school, so I kept the Environmental Club kids close to the building as we gathered gorgeously-colored fallen leaves from the Maples, Sweet Gums, and Bradford Pears out front.

When we brought our treasures inside, I had art supplies ready, and in less than 5 minutes, there was a creative hum in the room as the students tried to capture the beauty of the sky and trees on their paper. Vivaldi's Four Seasons played in the background.

Try to

capture Autumn's

color with paint, collage.

Today's art will be forgotten,

not lost.

Dark sky

Children's laughter

Brilliant colors of fall

Collect beauty strewn by the trees

New art

Brilliant

color against

heavy dark purple skies:

red, gold, green, orange, yellow, brown.

Rain begins.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2013

Diane has today's Poetry Friday Roundup at Random Noodling.