Children are one of the greatest joys in Life. I’m Grateful for my friend who teaches Art to our children and for those who make the Arts possible. I love what the children have created here. Their imagination inspires me toward thinking and creativity.
Inside the lab the children tap home row, but think of Winter
Inside her paper grading mind she sees
A D H D A D H D……and know they need to MOVE!
Outside, between the mini-blinds they long to go.
The Snowflakes play and dance and jump
like frosty aphids
Cloud jumpers want to land on children’s chocolate rainbow faces
I close my teacher eyes to tests and schedules
and vow to try to be….. more better
and like my fledglings, just let GO.
And so, I open wide my child eyes
to innocent discovery
to magic and believing
to making fun the tasty freeeeeeeze
to loving every icy thing
above, below and all around me.
***That day we caught two, three…… or ten bazillion crystals.
Sublime time crystals snagged from space before the bell rang
before we went inside the lines to rows and orders
***Right there and then
outside in real-life child time
I blinked and pinked and peeked
a sea of children trying to climb the sky
***They caught a cache of long-lashed loot
with wet pink wrinkled platted tongues to boot
They worked the work of clomping scattering snow shoes
cocked back, wide gapped, their toothless little mouths
refused to close
Again, again, they hurled a never ending spray of joyous celebration
the happy song, a child’s quest of romping salutation
a freedom called to play that comes so easily to youth
a slip and slide of slush and shovels from January through February
of winking sloppy snowflake melt on everyone
and ice sickle sword play.
***I gazed and coveted
and so I caught for me a clear blueberry sky
atop the frozen flagpole field of stars on high
I sighed and tasted beauty on my taffy tongue-pull
and savored long and well that sweet sleet drip
*** I scanned to spy a hundred button noses cocked,
tipped confident to trusting, far from Winter’s cutting edge
a hundred open bird chirp mouths intent on feeding
a hundred rosy cheeks all zipped and scarfed, and willing
a hundred homespun, bought, some thrown, without a thought
for soggy shirts and sweaters.
Torn, blown and flying. Heaped high in coat banks deep and dying.
A wondrous wave of woven woolen mittens burst again, hands raised
all vying for the blessed soft serve. The sweet friends,
a mess of mewing kittens lapping milk
spilt soft upon the silky white of morning
one two three four….more….the frosty excess
five fingering a Jan Brett mittened recess
upon the tongues of children, snowflakes flying without end,
then just as fast
gone gone to never-lasting
Then back for more galore!
***It’s days like these
I love to be.
It’s times like these
I don my eagle wings and breath,
immune to fixed, inflexible, and grown up thinks
It’s times like these I thank my God.
I raise my face to Winter Sun and muddy buddy dogs
and set my tongue