Tag: School

No More Snow Days

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those frozen crystals
one after the next
swirl and gust, dance
in sky, as we stare
hoping streets turn white

with each inch on ground
silent time arrives
waiting by the radio
listening to county
after county close schools

for children only think
of sledding and cocoa, and
knocking powder off oak branches
landscape like the untouched moon

today with Zoom the flakes
still descend, but screens trap
the young inside their computers
a flat warm world without end
no more snow days

The Veltin School For Girls

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I’ve been going through my Grandmother Ethel’s scrapbook. My Grandmother attended The Veltin School in New York City. In the coming days I’m going to post some of her artwork and poetry. She lived her life in New York City, Rochester, NY, then Myrtle Beach, SC, for retirement. I was very close to my Grandmother (1907-2000). We were/are both poets and spiritual people. I’ve taught at a school serving girls for several years now, my Grandmother further connects me to that work and the historic mission of those institutions.

More about The Veltin School: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Veltin_School_for_Girls

Butterfly Effect

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we used to race caterpillars
up old oak trees, caterpillar
jockeys we were, holding our
sticks, prodding the slow
legged insects to move skyward
sometimes they listened to us
yelling their new names
come on Stripey, faster Laser
tickling bark, up they went or
they’d stop, no telling how it would
end, because the bell always rang
recess done, but they’d keep
climbing higher and higher, or
we imagined they did, ignoring
grammar, staring out windows
gazing to the tallest branches
baby butterflies, blue sky

My Favorite Dream

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My favorite dream was when I flew,
as bird or angel, ethereal, I never saw

halo or feathers, or looked at myself in
a mirror, only knew that I could soar high

up in clouds, skim over fields or shingled
rooftops, able to control all this grace.

So I floated back to Taylor Elementary,
hovered by a window, staring at kids writing

in their 6th grade classroom, when I saw him,
a boy I recognized, holding a #2 pencil,

tongue slightly out, concentrating, filling
up notebook lines. I watched for a long while,

then realized he was me.