Oh Time!

It is hard not to feel overwhelmed in December. The holidays are fast approaching, my responsibilities mounting--papers to read, portfolios to grade. Meanwhile the weather vacillates from moderate to frigid. We had a snow day last week--precious day in the middle of the week that allowed me to read journals and grade papers. The wind whispers through the naked branches. What little sun there is offers no warmth. This is the time of year when we need to gather in--hold dear ones close and write letters to those who are afar. My definition of family has changed through the years. I am grateful for the ability to redefine that which is most important to me--my evolving and creative adult children (odd phrase, that one...) and my life partner who is also my closest friend and confidante. Friends also add warmth and meaning to my life.

The writing is there too--beckoning me to see life as words on a page. I taught metaphors to second graders and villanelles to high school students in the same week. The moon was a banana, a button, a sliver of cheese. The villanelles were haunting--mythic and personal. I see words swirling around the room and students struggling to catch them. When we read, it's as if each student is able to find something in memory or perception that solidifies his or her truth. I'm a witness to this awakening on a weekly basis. It helps me to understand language as a powerful tool. How can I become complacent when I have so many words to choose from?

Frost and Warm Cider

This morning startled me with its sudden cold; frost on the trees, clinging to the remnants of plants left in the garden. The only color is the dusty green of pine rising beyond the queue of barren oak and ash. I feel as if I should be slowing down, making soup, snuggling under the down coverlet. Instead I run from here to there, teaching children of all ages to love words. We try out the sounds, letting vowels roll over our tongues. We click through consonants, understanding the power of rhythm. Yesterday my second grade project wrote a story about a seadragon and a hammerhead shark--unlikely friends who part ways over a misunderstanding. There is wisdom in this story. The dragon had previously warmed the cold Atlantic with his fiery breath but now the shark must contend with relentlessly cold waters. Sometimes we cannot realize what friends bring to a relationship until it is no longer available to us.

The poetry class I teach at the university is coming to a close. Students have had a poem to interact with all semester. They shared a representation of what they learned--via a storybook made, a sculpture, a painting on wood, a collage, and dramatic readings. There were also powerpoint presentations, animations, videos, and musical representations. The important thing for me is that they had to look at a poem from all sides. Whether or not it resonated for them mattered less than the time they spent. That's what poetry is--a slow and conscious way to look at the world. Though I was tired at the end of the day, I felt lucky to be a witness to the process. It is a little like being a conductor of an orchestra--I don't create the music, I simply move it along and keep the balance. Now if only I can learn that balance in my own life!