Thursday, April 30, 2020

nature carries on



nature carries on

hyacinths are gone
viburnum is swarmed by bees
daisies will bloom next 


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Wednesday, April 29, 2020

Lunch




Lunch

When Grandma was a girl
she sometimes walked home from school for lunch.
She remembers grilled cheese and tomato soup,
kidney beans and cheese on toast,
peanut butter and honey sandwiches.

Now that school is in my house,
I eat lunch at home every day.
I like to eat the same thing I did at school --
pretzels and a cheese stick, veggies and a fruit.
Keeping lunch the same helps me remember the cafeteria.

The cafeteria was loud and messy.
I traded pretzels for bites of sushi or mini Oreos.
After lunch was recess. I miss recess --
the swings, the big toy, even the muddy soccer field.
I even miss indoor recess.

Sitting on my porch
eating my not-a-school-lunch
at home-is-now-school,
I close my eyes in the sun, listen to the birds,
and remember everything I miss about school.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020


Tuesday, April 28, 2020

There's No Such Thing



There's No Such Thing

There's no such thing
as something from nothing
but potential can surprise us like Spring does
can unfold the way a leaf opens
the way Einstein grew out of an inauspicious childhood
into his genius.
It is the way of the world to
make the improbable possible,
then real.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020



The phrase "make the improbable possible, then real" is something Maria Popova said during the live stream of "The Universe in Verse" on Saturday, April 25, 2020.





Monday, April 27, 2020

In the Recent Past




in the recent past
"infectious" and "contagious"
referred to laughter


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020



Sunday, April 26, 2020

Dandelions, Ten Days Later




temporary sun
now a galaxy of seeds
blown dandelion


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Saturday, April 25, 2020

I Have a New Friend




I Have a New Friend

I have a new friend.
We've never met.
She chalks art and exercise challenges on the sidewalk.
She leaves the chalk out.
I write and draw my thanks.
Her chalk sticks became a pile of chalk pebbles.
I left a package on her porch --
Highlights magazines and gently used sidewalk chalk.
She left a package on my porch --
coloring pages, crayons and markers, four Cra-Z-Loom bracelets.
And a note.
I have a new friend named Annie.
We've never met.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020


Friday, April 24, 2020

Perspectives




Perspectives

I can see the train on the tracks two blocks away,
but an eagle can see a rabbit two miles away.

I can turn my head to look west down the street to the sunset,
but an owl can turn its head to see 270° (plus it can see in the dark.)

I can roll my eyes at Bill's corny puns,
but mantis shrimp and chameleons can roll each eye independently.

I can see your face,
but not your heart.

I can see through tears,
but not through closed doors.

I can see the stars,
but not the future.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020


Can it really be the last Friday of National Poetry Month? Christie has the roundup AND the Progressive Poem at Wondering and Wandering.


And then this: Grant Snider is thinking about what we can and cannot see, too!


Thursday, April 23, 2020

What You Want




What You Want

When what you want
is to swim laps in a pool,
a walk in the neighborhood
will have to do.

When what you want
is a hug and high five,
a card or an email
will have to suffice.

When what you want
leaves you high and dry
what you DO have
will just have to satisfy.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020


Wednesday, April 22, 2020

Fifth Grade Lessons




Fifth Grade Lessons

You're
only
eleven
and you're learning
life requires you to
(first and foremost) show up.
Read directions, do your best,
ask for help, give help when you can.
Put one foot in front of the other.
Never take "ordinary" for granted.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020


Tuesday, April 21, 2020

There's Really No Other Option




There's Really No Other Option

It's a small boat.
You're alone in a storm.
The sea is rough.
A gust of wind takes your sail.
The boat spins and lurches.
It threatens to swamp.
You scream into the dark night.
The sky absorbs your anger, despair, frustration.

Then you pick up the oars,
and you row.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020