I know I promised a haiku every Sunday. However, while I was outside with my horse, Rosie, this kept running through my mind:
Leading Rosie by her mane
no halter, no lead rope, nothing
clicking my tongue, encouraging
Rosie’s such a good girl!
Storms
Shades of grey, white, charcoal
tumble, swirl, curl,
orange lightning zig zags from
sky to ground
thunder growls, deep voiced
threatening.
Suddenly, the sound of silence
suspended, waiting.
Choose
See beginning note. I turn off the computer when a lightning storm arrives.
Last night I planned to reblog this, my very first blog post from over three years ago. However, a big lightning and hail storm arrived; I turned off my computer. I did not want a lightning strike to ruin it. Lightning struck my house twice in the six and one-half years I have lived here; once it destroyed my TV.
Abraham Lincoln said we choose–or do not choose–happiness. When I was twenty something, I chose happiness, not the sappy, syrupy, cheery, but the deeper joy of cherishing the small, the unique, the everyday, smiling with sunsets, the song of the mockingbird in the spring, my horses running free, the nearly invisible bobcat climbing the canyon wall, the taste of fine coffee at the first wakeful moments in the morning, cooking for friends, taking a “property walk” with my grandson, laughing with the teenagers I teach. I am driven to do…
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Writing a Poem Per Day
Was it a mistake to commit to 30/30?
Stacks of ungraded papers loom before me.
Commas misplaced; contractions; misspelled
words; tenses switched; “had went”; there,
their, they’re all confused.
Plagiarism checks, time consumed.
Stacks of ungraded papers loom before me.
Surprises
Life sometimes graces you with lovely surprises, the unexpected sunrise, flowers in unusual places, the rarely seen bobcat climbing the canyon wall. Today, tired, bag full of papers to grade, I entered my house, smelling a puzzling sweetness. The stage manger of Les Miserable lived with me two weeks. She left a bottle of red wine, a heartfelt note, and a bouquet, snowy lilies, golden roses, blue bells. Lillie scent pervades the room. I walk in beauty. 
Sunday Haiku
Blackfoot daisies, corydalis grace green pastures
springtime wonders
tiny blossoms of joy winking at an azure sky.
Blank, white paper
Blank, white paper
stares at me,
sitting here eating a
left over Subway sandwich,
reading Sky Bridge by
Laura Pritchett,
avoiding my writing commitment.
This book surprises me,
makes me think of my students,
some poor, trailer housed,
gun toting, hard scrabble,
simultaneously smart and ignorant.
Their idea of rich includes
any house over 2000 square feet,
stylish, elegant clothes, land.
My brain swirls thoughts, images:
What can it all mean, this life?
Joy, a hurting beauty?
Looking out the windows,
listening to the West Texas wind,
I ask myself again:
What can it all mean?
Photo Essay: Spending a Day in Ljubljana
For those of you who liked the previously reblogged post on Slovenia.
Our Slovenia travel chapter started with its beautiful capital city and the smallest capital in Europe – Ljubljana (“lyoob-lyAH-nah”). Interestingly Ljubljana is a city that does not have any world-famous monuments or attractions or a long or short list of to do’s. But it has many things to see and do and the best way to discover its secrets is via our favorite way – ditch the map and walk around aimlessly on foot.
Ljubljana from the Ljubljana Castle, Slovenia
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Commitment and Poetry
This business of committing to posting a poem a day during National Poetry Month is not so very easy. Yesterday I totally forgot and tonight I am nearly too tired to think of anything at all profound and clever. However, a commitment is a serious endeavor, I will put my fatigued brain in gear, and something of use to someone will hopefully result. Now that I puzzle over this, the solution is to write a poem about those things to which I am committed:
Commitments
Make a difference in this world.
Enjoy ordinary moments.
Hang in there for the long haul.
Express joy and courage to
be the best possible self.
Make a difference in this world.
Dance to the sound of silence.
Learn something new and
meaningful every day.
Meditate, practice yoga.
Cherish friends and family.
Make a difference in this world.
Teaching
Three students mad at other students:
in stream-of-conscious essay one
tells me,
“I want to punch ___T____ and ___J_____ in the face.”
Two others allude, avoid the overt.
I must “fix” this for them.
Senioritis.
writingontherim 