• Garden of Books

    (Quotes are from https://www.unitebooks.com/book-gardens/louisville-growing-readers) There is a garden growingin a desertin my state(known for bourbon and bluegrass,the Run for the Roses) it’s a book gardengrowing where oncethere were too few books,a book desert in fact,where would-be readerswere parchedbut now they can findrefreshment in their own homes; quench their thirst for stories“878,000 books were distributed9,508 families participated”an oasisspringing…

  • Baby Days

    “Hi!Grammar’shere!” Big smileThree pearly teetharms up cuddle holdsing play clap giggle rollbaba blankie board book yawnlullaby nap time teddy bearstretch kick reach hug Grammar’s snuggle bug stroller walk dogs bark flowers park swingback home baby spoon peek a boo sippy cup teething ring chewscoot wriggle giggle crawlblocks build tower fall Dad’s home! “Love you!”My sweet Blairwaves byebye.

  • Home Again

    A golden hinge poem using a line from Michael Rosen’s untitled poem that appears in his introduction to the children’s poetry anthology Home. This is the home that knows you by heart.Is this house the reason you love stories and art?The home of your childhood, home of your song,home of your memory, your home for so longthat it seems…

  • Thanksgiving

    For Thanksgiving, my family eats meatballs Alongside turkey and dressing and casseroles and more casseroles We eat small handmade Italian meatballs, using Big Mommy’s recipe Big Mommy, my mother’s grandmother, big only in spirit The night before Thanksgiving, we mix with our fingers and roll with our palms 200 meatballs My younger son loved helping…

  • The Substitute

    Mrs. Shackelford was my first-grade teacher in 1976. Small and quick, with tidy cotton wrap skirts and eyelet blouses, she ushered us lovingly, but efficiently, from station to station: math, phonics, science, geography. She told us she had two toddlers at home, and when she was absent (presumably for them), her mother, Mrs. Willoughby (a…

  • Wolf Run

    Through our suburban neighborhood the creek, Wolf run, ripples and winds welcoming waders, watchers, and wanderers Years ago, our son, ten then splashed through the riffles, barefoot on slick rock through our suburban neighborhood One rainy day, a coyote, fur grey as drizzle sat sentry by a groundhog hole; waiting watching the creek, Wolf run,…

  • The Walks I Envied

    Last spring, before retirement, I dashed out the door daily, driving to my windowless work space Once there, I loved reading and writing with seventh grade students, chatting with colleagues during hall change but on the way from my front door to my classroom door Envy rode my stiff shoulders like a green snake curled…