It's amazing how the art inspired imagination (Robinson), that led to empathy and an increased sense of community (Greene), the basis of our profession (Buchmann). I feel like last night we all exposed ourselves through our poetry and began to knit together some of the threads that will make us a great community for one another.
I would love to get to hear your work again. Time flew by so fast it was hard to process them all. If you are comfortable with posting them, I'm sure people would love to read them.
Where I Come From
I am from the little house with the metal roof,
with the drainage ditch on the busy street.
I am from rhubarb, zucchini, pie cherries,
the stretching dogwood tree with oh so climbable limbs.
Fragile Buddha statues and German beer wagons,
our Subaru with no seat belts and an old pick-up playing classic rock.
I’m from my father’s workshop,
where hammer meets thumb with a resounding
“Son of a…gun!” and “God…blessit!”
I come from my older sisters and me:
Lazy summers with the Brady’s and “Pork chops and Applesauce”.
Fights over Barbie’s with no heads.
The right to get to dance front and center in footed pajamas to the Muppet Show
theme song.
theme song.
The Belt Drawer (hide your fanny!).
I gratefully arise from the 7 Layer Dip, the Taco Pie, and the Ambrosia.
Alas, I also spring forth from the horrors of Halibut Ragu – eew.
Alas, I also spring forth from the horrors of Halibut Ragu – eew.
I’m grown from a humble brick patio and long, meandering bike rides with no itinerary left
behind,
behind,
from Grampa and Gramma and life down on the farm.
My old shoe box full of things I’m not sure why I kept, but am glad I did.
I am from all of these things,
little puzzle pieces of my big picture,
little puzzle pieces of my big picture,
then, now and forever.
