This Is a Test

This Is a Test

Three very loud blasts, like a blaring horn, shattered the quiet with a suddenness that makes you panic. I felt a strange tension run through me for a moment.

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Filled with Song

Filled with Song

I marvel that they sing such songs in this their darkest night. Such joy, peace, love — they give to all of us in their songs.

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Sparks

Sparks

#PoetryFriday
Under the falling darkness
as day fades and night engulfs
I think of light and warmth.
The campfire pulls me in . . .

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Madness in March

Madness in March

#SOLC19 No. 31.
As she blended a smoothie, Grandma
cautioned “Pays to pay attention,
or caged birds eatin’
seeds is what you’uns’ll be.”

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Indifference

Indifference

#SOLC19 No. 29 and #PoetryFriday
“The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.” -Elie Wiesel

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The Old Pear Tree

The Old Pear Tree

#SOLC19 No. 27
During the last days of summer, the days that are dry and hot without a breath of a breeze, a sweet fruity aroma hovers over our yard. It is the smell of autumn. Of pears ripening.

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September

September

The air is dry, scented with fading lavender and blooming peppermint that line my walkway.

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Spring

Spring

Sacredness surrounds me
in the wonder of creation
my heart praises God.

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Poetry-Picture Matching

Poetry-Picture Matching

This post, inspired by primary teachers who joined me during the workshops, is a recap one of the activities we did, an activity to build background knowledge, introduce rich vocabulary, and provide descriptive models during our discussion about prewriting … using poetry.

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Pink Snow

Pink Snow

#SOL19 Tuesdays.
Sometimes the petals float down in a soft shower, drifting on a spring breeze. It is such a lovely sight.

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The Bike Ride

The Bike Ride

#SOLC19 No. 28
I was sitting tall on my bike trying to catch the full effect of the air moving over my body, hoping it would offer some relief to the heat. I rode deliberately under the low branches of oaks, mulberries, and pecans that lined our streets.

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Winter Trees

Winter Trees

#SOLC19 No. 26
She waltzed by me, stopped, and asked what I was reading. I said, “Poetry. I will read you a poem.”

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