My Hands

My Hands

wrinkled cracked and dry

these clean clean clean clean clean hands

my gift to the world

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

This poem was inspired by Amy Ludwig VanDerwater's Sharing our Notebooks video.

On My Walk

On My Walk

On my walk
around the block
what do I see?
I see a teddy bear
looking at me!

As we go
I look below
and what do I see?
I see chalk art
looking at me!

Walk some more
and on the door
what do I see?
I see a rainbow
looking at me!

Come back home
where we're alone.
What do I see?
A hopeful heart
is looking out for me.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

The Flipside: My National Poetry Month Project for 2020

My Joy

I see
you on my screen.
Hear your voice, check your work.
But I miss the reality
of you.

Your face --
pixilated --
so close, and yet so far.
No matter the distance, you are
my joy.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020


This poem is a pair of cinquains. They were written in response to Liz Garton Scanlon's prompt.

So much about the world right now is scary and uncertain. That was always true, but it is in-our-faces true now. At the same time, there are amazing acts of generosity, compassion, connectedness, and creativity that are happening because of These Unprecedented Times. For myself, for my students, for my readers, I wanted to write poems this month that remind us what's on the flipside of the scary uncertainty.

Heidi has the first Poetry Friday Roundup of National Poetry Month 2020 at her blog, my juicy little universe.

Gratitude

Gratitude

I
give thanks
for the clouds.
Yes, the same ones
that spoiled your picnic,
that rained on your parade,
that flooded the soccer field.
I am thankful for clouds because
without them there'd be no rainbows, and
behind them there will always be blue skies.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020


This poem is an etheree, written with gratitude to Liz Garton Scanlon for her poetry prompts.

National Poetry Month 2020: The Flipside

The Flipside

Your fear stings like a fresh paper cut.

The flipside is brave determination to never give up.

The changes are rollercoaster fast -- disorienting, dizzying.

The flipside is the steady predictable approach of Spring.

Our connection is like the two sides of a coin:

the flipside says, whether we are together or apart, we are joined.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Happy Birthday, Robert Frost

Tree At My Window

by Robert Frost

Tree at my window, window tree,
My sash is lowered when night comes on;
But let there never be curtain drawn
Between you and me.

Vague dream head lifted out of the ground,
And thing next most diffuse to cloud,
Not all your light tongues talking aloud
Could be profound.

But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed,
And if you have seen me when I slept,
You have seen me when I was taken and swept
And all but lost.

That day she put our heads together,
Fate had her imagination about her,
Your head so much concerned with outer,
Mine with inner, weather.

The picture above is not the tree at my window, but it is the first tree I've seen in full bloom this spring. I wish you could have been there to see the cloud of bees buzzing hungrily amongst the blossoms. 

There was a crabapple tree outside my window growing up, and I memorized "Tree at My Window" in high school as a tribute to her. I need to re-memorize it. Maybe this could be my new hand-washing poem. I've been using "Loveliest of Trees the Cherry Now" and "Barter." My "playlist" could use some variety. 

My real reason for sharing this poem is that today is Robert Frost's birthday. And amazingly, though I've shared MANY of my Robert Frost favorites over the years (some, multiple times), I've never shared this one. It was the phrase "outside my window" in this Incidental Comics that reminded me of "Tree at My Window." (The comic also made tears spring to my eyes and his comments about the comic validated my NPM theme...more on that later.) Robert Frost's poems are wise and timeless. Here's to the all the best we humans have and will make, and here's to the things upon which we can rely, like Spring and Poetry Friday. Tabatha has the Poetry Friday Roundup this week at The Opposite of Indifference.

What It Means to Be a Teacher Today

So 2 weeks ago, I did a talk titled, "What Does It Mean to be a Literacy Teacher Today."  I focused on digital tools and all that was possible for our children. Then this pandemic arrived and our governor closed schools.  I can't put into words what it means to be a teacher today, but I saw three things that put into words all that I've been feeling.

First this, at Her View from Home, a piece that I've read over and over. Dear Students, We Didn't Even Get to Say Goodbye.

And then I saw this thread from Jessica Kirkland.  Read the whole thread and then follow her because she has lots of good posts during this time. I've been reading these words over and over again.

And then this (I can't find the link but this says so much.  I've always been proud and humbled to be part of this group we call teachers. And this....this is what we do.

I'm so happy to be part of so many incredible teaching communities as we figure this out together and take care of our kids and each other during this very difficult time.

Poetry Friday -- That Unexpected Something

Photo via Unsplash

Not silence, but close:

No noise wafts from the freeway

Just the trees dripping

©Mary Lee Hahn

Ron Padgett has a poem, "Advice to Young Writers." In it, he advises writers to "find/that unexpected something..." 

When I think back on the day today, my unexpected something has to be the silence this morning as I walked in the dark. Usually, I can hear traffic on the nearby freeway. Not today. Usually, there are lots of cars on the street -- early birds heading to work. Not today. Today, the unexpected extraordinary thing was the silence. All I could hear were the trees dripping from yesterday's delugenous (my invented word) rains.

Be sure to follow the link to Padgett's poem. You'll see that he's got more to say on the subject, and the ending might make you snort, so put your tea down.

Michelle Kogan has the First Full Day of Spring Poetry Friday Roundup today. No matter what, Happy Spring!

Ways I'm Staying Sane

photo via Unsplash

1. Schedule
After 3 hours of school work, I take a break for Creative Time (write, sketch, paint, bake), a non-working half-hour lunch, and a half-hour for chores around the house. After 2 more hours of school work, I break for an hour of reading and an hour outdoors.

2. Exercise
Every morning I exercise (strength and stretching or strength and walking). Every time I get up out of my chair, I also go up and down the basement stairs three times.

3. Chocolate
One piece every morning -- Ghirardelli, Lindt, Dove, or Whole Foods' 365 Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Cup Minis.

Moderation, pacing, and patience.

Rollercoaster

photo via Unsplash

In the course of a day, I rollercoaster from "this is scary/unnerving/overwhelming" to "this is such an exciting opportunity!" Over and over again. 

I'm doing my best to enjoy the ride and stay focused on the exciting opportunity we have ahead of us. This post by Seth Godin gives me hope that some of the changes in the way we "do school" can be lasting and positive. Here's the bit I like the most from his column:

"If you want to do a lecture, do a lecture, but that’s prize-based education, not real learning. If people simply wanted to learn what you were teaching, they wouldn’t have had to wait for your lecture (or pay for it). They could have looked it up online. 

But if you want to create transformative online learning, then allow people to learn together with each other. 

Connect them. 

Create conversations."

I brought home a few things from my desk to set out on a corner of the kitchen table. Each of these items has a person and a story behind them that will help keep me grounded. The poem by Wendell Berry has never felt so spot-on.

Now it's time to plan for some connections and conversations. Now I get down to the real work of making this "impeded stream" sing.