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Ella: Of Infinite Possibilities
Wide-eyed in wonder,
Ella beholds the world.
“How old are you?”
her grandfather asks.
She holds up five fingers.
Ella traces her grandfather’s mosaic of wrinkles,
touching his face with those same five fingers.
Seeing tears form in her dark, dark eyes,
he asks: “Why so sad?”
“Because you are shrinking.”
“But I am not sad,” Grandfather replies.
“Why not?”
“Because you are growing.”
—Jacqueline Seewald
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gruizza/iStock
When Is That Golden Moment?
When the scale tells me I’ve not gained a pound
When my glasses or phone or keys have been found,
When the cop pulls me over but spares me the ticket
When my ice cream cone drips and I get to lick it,
When I read the obituaries and don’t know a soul,
When the car just ahead of me pays for my toll,
When my pants can fit without sucking my gut in
When I’m on the dance floor and a man asks to cut in,
When it’s time for a movie and I get to choose it,
When I cut out the coupon and remember to use it.
Everyone understands the worth
Of a big celebration: a marriage, a birth
But moments of joy, too many to mention
Brighten each day, when we just pay attention.
—Eileen Hession
Loredo/iStock
Eskimo Wisdom
A Yupik Elder asked me once of an illness he had found
Affecting all the Gussuck folk that he had been around.
"Why do they chase the dollar so? What is this strange disease?
Whatever are they striving for? What does it take to please?'
I answered that I did not know the causes nor the cure.
But Affluenza is the name and its an ill for sure.
He looked at me with wisdom's eye and shared his culture's lore.
"Money's like fish, when you run out, go out and catch some more."
He paused and added with a smile, "Too much can lead to strife,
Money's like fish, you have too much--it spoils, stinks up your life."
—Paul Berg
sandsun/iStock
Bloom
I want to tell you
about the sunflower I found
on the sidewalk yesterday.
It is wilting and curled and gorgeous
and knows it.
I want to age like that,
never forgetting my own beauty,
never forgetting how to say bloom.
—Anna Voelker
nata_vkusidey/iStock
First Fires
When I was little I used to flip to the last page of my chosen library book
first
and read it aloud to myself.
I thought by doing this I would be made privy to some secret information.
I could outsmart the author and figure it all out before he or she intended.
I could win.
Everything was a game.
Nowadays, I avoid the last page as long as possible.
I abandon books all over my apartment.
One lays with its spine *****ed open on the arm of my couch
while another curls on the floor under my bed asleep.
I don’t want to get to the end of anything anymore.
I only want beginnings:
First sentences striking like matches on the roof of my mouth.
Igniting like the first fires on earth.
—Dorothy Schultz
Yuri/iStock
Morning Coffee
Dark dark, swirl in the white,
Mix in the morning,
Fade out the night.
Sugar cream, coffee bean,
Eyes start to blinking,
End the last dream.
Dark dark, swirl in the white
Fresh day brewing
On hot sunlight.
—Amber Lynn Revis
MarcelC/iStock
Constellations
My favorite color is navy blue,
the color of a childhood book about stars.
My father read it to me on the couch,
took me outside and showed me
the Big Dipper, and the Little Dipper,
and how to find the North Star.
All of this was right in front of our house.
We looked up into the sky until it looked back.
The book said we spin without realizing it.
It told where we are in the Milky Way
but my father and I don't know how we got here.
Neither of us mentions it.
We do not know how to do the math
on astronomical odds as big as that.
—Loueva Smith
Avalon/iSTock
Communion
The moon dissolves,
A communion wafer
On the tongue of morning.
The sun melts,
Fresh butter spread
On noonday bread.
Evening tips the cup,
Rose, burgundy, and gold.
Refreshment for the soul.
—Fannie Griffin
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Ella: Of Infinite Possibilities
Wide-eyed in wonder,
Ella beholds the world.
“How old are you?”
her grandfather asks.
She holds up five fingers.
Ella traces her grandfather’s mosaic of wrinkles,
touching his face with those same five fingers.
Seeing tears form in her dark, dark eyes,
he asks: “Why so sad?”
“Because you are shrinking.”
“But I am not sad,” Grandfather replies.
“Why not?”
“Because you are growing.”
—Jacqueline Seewald
Check out the other You do not have permission to view the full content of this post. Log in or register now.
gruizza/iStockWhen Is That Golden Moment?
When the scale tells me I’ve not gained a pound
When my glasses or phone or keys have been found,
When the cop pulls me over but spares me the ticket
When my ice cream cone drips and I get to lick it,
When I read the obituaries and don’t know a soul,
When the car just ahead of me pays for my toll,
When my pants can fit without sucking my gut in
When I’m on the dance floor and a man asks to cut in,
When it’s time for a movie and I get to choose it,
When I cut out the coupon and remember to use it.
Everyone understands the worth
Of a big celebration: a marriage, a birth
But moments of joy, too many to mention
Brighten each day, when we just pay attention.
—Eileen Hession
Loredo/iStockEskimo Wisdom
A Yupik Elder asked me once of an illness he had found
Affecting all the Gussuck folk that he had been around.
"Why do they chase the dollar so? What is this strange disease?
Whatever are they striving for? What does it take to please?'
I answered that I did not know the causes nor the cure.
But Affluenza is the name and its an ill for sure.
He looked at me with wisdom's eye and shared his culture's lore.
"Money's like fish, when you run out, go out and catch some more."
He paused and added with a smile, "Too much can lead to strife,
Money's like fish, you have too much--it spoils, stinks up your life."
—Paul Berg
sandsun/iStockBloom
I want to tell you
about the sunflower I found
on the sidewalk yesterday.
It is wilting and curled and gorgeous
and knows it.
I want to age like that,
never forgetting my own beauty,
never forgetting how to say bloom.
—Anna Voelker
nata_vkusidey/iStockFirst Fires
When I was little I used to flip to the last page of my chosen library book
first
and read it aloud to myself.
I thought by doing this I would be made privy to some secret information.
I could outsmart the author and figure it all out before he or she intended.
I could win.
Everything was a game.
Nowadays, I avoid the last page as long as possible.
I abandon books all over my apartment.
One lays with its spine *****ed open on the arm of my couch
while another curls on the floor under my bed asleep.
I don’t want to get to the end of anything anymore.
I only want beginnings:
First sentences striking like matches on the roof of my mouth.
Igniting like the first fires on earth.
—Dorothy Schultz
Yuri/iStockMorning Coffee
Dark dark, swirl in the white,
Mix in the morning,
Fade out the night.
Sugar cream, coffee bean,
Eyes start to blinking,
End the last dream.
Dark dark, swirl in the white
Fresh day brewing
On hot sunlight.
—Amber Lynn Revis
MarcelC/iStockConstellations
My favorite color is navy blue,
the color of a childhood book about stars.
My father read it to me on the couch,
took me outside and showed me
the Big Dipper, and the Little Dipper,
and how to find the North Star.
All of this was right in front of our house.
We looked up into the sky until it looked back.
The book said we spin without realizing it.
It told where we are in the Milky Way
but my father and I don't know how we got here.
Neither of us mentions it.
We do not know how to do the math
on astronomical odds as big as that.
—Loueva Smith
Avalon/iSTockCommunion
The moon dissolves,
A communion wafer
On the tongue of morning.
The sun melts,
Fresh butter spread
On noonday bread.
Evening tips the cup,
Rose, burgundy, and gold.
Refreshment for the soul.
—Fannie Griffin
Read more: You do not have permission to view the full content of this post. Log in or register now.