Poems

May Fever

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

I don’t see how I can
be expected to participate
in this conversation

when bluebird, carrying his piece of sky,
has just flitted past my field of vision
and into a bough of pink dogwood.

How can I focus on these plans
and preparations and good ideas
when redwing has settled into the foxtails

and calls to me with his buzz and click,
making the grasses sway and dip?
When oriole’s bright flame

is setting fire to the treetop?
When the red-bellied woodpecker
shirrrrrrs and clucks

from the little pear tree?
When the carpenter bee hovers
in front of me, people-watching?

How can I listen to human conversation
when all these voices call incessantly,
whistling and chattering, begging my attention?

 

Gratitude List:
1. The wild, rampant imagination of a five-year-old
2. Bridge of Hope, and its commitment to building communities which protect children and end homelessness.
3. The subjunctive mood (google “Phuc Tran subjunctive” for a great TED talk on the subject)
4. My articulate sister Valerie, and the way she weaves words.
5. So much is dawning.  So much is greening.  So much is coming to birth.  Unfurl!

May we walk in Beauty!

Where Wonder Enters the Soul

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

Here is a re-post of a poem I posted last April 14.  I can’t believe that Oriole was here already in mid-April last year.  But this may have just been me hoping for their return to the hollow.  I don’t know.

Through the Door

These are the doorways.  The passages
where wonder enters the soul on tiptoe.
Here is the speedwell,
up from the earth and smiling through snow.
The breath of the wind
on the ice-white wing of the gull.

Gull’s feather,
the beating heart of the honeybee,
and the black lace veil of the monarch.
The moment of hush before sunrise.

These are the liminal spaces.
The cocked arm and quiet face of a sleeping child.
The birth of a new idea.
The rousing of thought to action
and action to hope.
The hope that is borne
on the wings of the wren.
The way the weight of sadness
will slide away from your eyes
to make a little room for joy.

This is the breaking news of the heart.
First the aconite and speedwell,
then windflower and crocus.
These are the vanguard, the silent scouts.

For the purposes of this poem
I will be equating gratitude with wonder
and wonder with spring.
Wonder enters on tiptoe.

A flash of impossible orange
flickers high in the sycamore.
From the newest leaves
on the highest branch
comes a rustling, then a whistle
like calling a dog.
The oriole returns to summon the summer home.

And you–you may stand in the doorway
as long as you like.
Let that bright bird
open spaces for new joy
to fill the rooms
where sadness used to be.

Book Cover
That poem appears on page 18 of my new book.
Buy it here.

Gratitude List:
1.  A wonderful job interview today at a place where I can happily imagine myself.  I know better than to assume anything, but if I do not get the job, I am still extremely grateful for the chance to talk about things that matter to me, and for the boost that this has given to my confidence.
2.  The way dreams work their way into daytime realities and help to navigate the emotional landscape.
3.  Robin’s eggs.  I have found three or four already this spring, and I can see where the careful pecking from inside opened them.
4.  Sunlight through ferns.
5.  The Birds of Fire.  This morning, thinking I was seeing a pair of blackbirds squabbling in the poplar tree, I was amazed to see that they were actually the rusty glowing embers of the Orchard Oriole.  A few minutes later, trying to find where the Baltimore Oriole was singing way at the top of the poplar, I suddenly saw that dancing orange flame of a bird, flitting from branch to branch.  Then Beauty, she said, “But wait!  There’s more!”  And this evening after supper, she showed us the dazzle of a scarlet tanager burning away in the pear tree.  And whose heart can encompass all that color–all that fire–in one day?

May we walk in Beauty!

Messages

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

2014 April 119

Insect hieroglyph.
Message for the guardians
of this green River.
Like thunderbirds on the rocks
where ancient ones tended her.

Gratitude List:
1. Blowing bubbles on the lawn.  Tonight was one of those occasions I hope the kids never forget.
2. You know how sometimes things fall apart?  And sometimes it feels like they’re sort of meant to fall apart so they can fall into place in a different way? The old paradigm needs to shatter sometimes in order for the new one to form.  And even if the new one doesn’t conform to my personal Plan A, it’s still a good thing that the old one is out of the way.
3. My parents.
4. Mockingbird, Oriole, Blue Jay.  And a story of a Red-Winged Blackbird.  Shiny wing-folk.
5. Jumping off the cliff.  There’s a rainbow out there somewhere to catch me.

May we walk in Beauty.

Dark Dreams

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

Trying to exorcise last night’s nightmare by poetry.

Dream Tanka

We played in sunshine,
but shadowed by foreboding.
Then the breezes died.
Then the birds stopped their singing.
Then the sun fell from the sky.

 

Gratitude List:
1. Starting online classes.  Getting my teaching certification back to active.
2. Spinach and egg pie
3. Talking to Mara on the phone today
4. A four-egg day.  In a three-hen flock, someone is over-achieving.
5. The Goldfinch Farm Crew.  It begins.

May we walk in Beauty!

Wind Commences to Sing

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

This one’s not mine.  It’s a Pima poem from In the Trail of the Wind: American Indian Poems and Ritual Orations that my friend Marie is letting me borrow.  I love the rhythm and imagery of this, and I want to copy it.

Wind Song

Wind now commences to sing;
Wind now commences to sing.
The land stretches before me,
Before me stretches away.

Wind’s house now is thundering.
Wind’s house now is thundering.
I go roaring over the land,
The land covered with thunder.

Over the windy mountains;
Over the windy mountains,
Came the myriad-legged wind;
The wind came running hither.

The Black Snake Wind came to me;
The Black Snake Wind came to me,
Came and wrapped itself about,
Came here running with its songs.

Gratitude List:
1.  May Day celebration at Wrightsville School.  Being known as Ellis’s mom.
2.  Still envisioning, creating a long-term plan amidst the short-term frenzy.
3.  Waking up in the morning creating lesson plans.  I think I am still a teacher.
4.  Flying Ms. Suzy’s marvelous kites!
5.  Sympathy card from the vet’s office.

May we walk in Beauty!

Calling it a Month

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

Today’s prompt–last one of the month–is “calling it a day.”  I really love these challenges, pushing myself to write even when I don’t feel inspired, to put something out there whether I am ready or not.  Sometimes I feel like I just toss out whatever scrap I can come up with, but occasionally that panic to not publicly embarrass myself seems to draw out poems I never knew I had in me.  So while I am looking forward to the rest, I’ll miss the challenge and the thrill of the day poem.

Calling it a Day

I came here because I thought–
oh never mind.  You see,

it’s been on my mind to–
well, you wouldn’t understand.

The band is packing up.
We’re totally out of peanuts, and
someone spilled wine
on my yellow dress.

I thought the dancing was fun.
Didn’t you like the dancing?
And the music kept it lively.

Were you about to say something?
Oh, I thought I heard you start to–
it doesn’t really matter now, does it?

Good night.
You sleep well, too.
Drive safely, now.

 

Gratitude List:
1. Secret poems sent to me by FB message and snail mail.  My heart is full.
2. Mirror, reflection, turning it back
3. Seeing through
4. Book Faeries
5. Networks

May we walk in Beauty!

Sometimes it Works

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

Today’s prompt is in honor of Gabriel Garcia Marquez, who died last week, to write a Magical/Realism poem.

“The doctor,” she told me,
“said it’s simply the effects
of anxiety upon my body.”

Half a dozen tiny blue birds
dripped from her lips
as she spoke.

“It’s a physiological response.
It’s all in my head,
but not in my head.”

She heaved a heavy sigh
and a small blue cloud of birds
issued forth and settled,
wings rustling, on her shoulders.

“The doctor recommended
relaxation exercises.
Grounding.  Yoga.  Breathing.”

She closed her eyes
and inhaled deeply.
As she let out her breath,
a fat blue flamingo
bounced onto the rug.

She shrugged.
“Sometimes it works.”

 

Gratitude List:
1. Gabriel Garcia Marquez
2. The words of Vaclav Havel: Doing a thing not because you have hope that it will change things, but because it makes sense.
3. The spirited activists of Lancaster.  Thank you for making your voices heard.  No pipeline!
4. Breathing
5. Step by step by step

May we walk in Beauty!

Un-Settling

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / 2 Comments

Faerie Tree

Today’s prompt is to write a settled poem.  Thought I would try a sestina today. This is in honor of all those who will be protesting at the Lancaster County government offices tomorrow, protesting the proposed pipeline that will cut through Lancaster County, dangerously close to the Susquehanna River and through wildflower preserves and wildlands and the beautiful Tucquan Glen.

This morning, a single shaft of sun
settles on an opening curl of fern.
A hermit thrush yodels, breaking the silence;
a salamander lays her eggs in a vernal pool;
trout lilies, may apple, and trillium come alive in the breeze;
and a gravid squirrel prepares her birthing nest.

Spring has settled into this glen, this nest
of a valley dappled with sun
where a dread new word is whispered on the breeze:
“Pipeline.” Listen to me, seed and egg and fern.
Hear me. Let the message sink into the pools
and the shadows in these hollows.  It shatters our silence.

The time is past for us to be settled and silent.
Safety will no longer be found nestled
in these hills, in these pools.
The trees will be torn out, your secrets open to the sun,
the yellow machines will crush the ferns,
and diesel fumes will waft on the breeze.

Tell it far.  Let it float on the wild winds and breezes:
We must not stay silent!
Awake and rise up like the unfurling fern!
Un-settle yourselves to protect the wildness.
Be fierce and penetrating as the sun.
Let action ripple outward like circles in a disturbed pool.

We must work together, pull together, pool
our energies.  Tell it to the breeze.
Marshall the forces of our hearts, our will, our reason.
Protect and preserve the settled silence.
Make it safe for the den, the perch, the nest,
for the spider, the swallow, the fern.

We want no pipeline, only the gentle swaying of the fern.
Tell them No.  We want to see the salamanders in the pools
in the glen, the intricate basket of oriole’s nest,
the wild honeybees, the lady slipper, the melodious breeze.
Tell them a firm and settled No. We seek the solitude and silence
of the unscarred valley dappled by the sun.

Gratitude List:
1. The snow of blossoms from the pear tree outside the window
2. The sound of rain on the roof
3. Sun salutations
4. There are always more choices
5. Taking action

May we walk in Beauty!

Monsters

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

Today’s prompt is to write a monster poem.  We’re back to watching Mad Men on Netflix these days, season 6.  This one is sort of inspired by Don Draper, and by characters like him.

Vampire

Oh, that one.
He looked so dapper,
and spoke with such charm.
A family man, they all said.

He sacrificed everything
for his brilliant children,
and more for his wonderful wife.

He played it so well,
even she who thought she knew him best,
had no sense of the truth

until he’d drained her dry.

 

Gratitude List:
1. The smells of springtime in the hollow
2. Lush blankets of purple dead nettle coming up in the rows of stubble in the cornfields
3. Reading and reading and reading with my children–just finishing Jennifer Murdley’s Toad, another gift from one of our book faeries.
4. Memory and forgetting
5. Concentric circles of community.

May we walk in Beauty!

May the Waters All Run Free

/ Beth Weaver-Kreider / Leave a comment

Yesterday’s prompt was to write a poem about water.  This is too big a subject for one day’s musing.  This poem will be a place-holder, an early draft.

May the Waters All Run Free

Remember your waters, children,
remember your waters.
Cherish the waters you come from.
Cherish the waters you belong to.

Listen, every day, for the flow,
the whoosh and shush
of the waters that run
in the rivers in your body.

Gather the waters that fall,
that run in streams down your roof.
Sprinkle them on the earth
and the thirsty green world
like a baptism, like a blessing.

Stand in the rain with your hands outstretched
and your face turned toward the sky.
Soak it in like a plant.

Find your rivers, your creeks.
Know them and speak to them.
Become a watcher of rivers,
a guardian of flow.
Tend them by your observation.
Let every river you cross
receive your attention, your benediction.

Remember your waters, children.
Remember your waters.

Immerse yourself in lakes and oceans.
Let water hold you, raise you.
Let water buoy you up.
Give over your control
to the arms of mother ocean.

Wander the borderlands
between the solid earth and water.
Learn the names and voices
of the ones who live there,
in the spaces between.

Walk back in your memories
to your very first waters,
the rivers and lakes of your childhood,
the ponds and the puddles and creeks.
Then walk further back and remember
the water you came from,
the amniotic sea where you were formed,
where you took shape.

Remember your waters, children.
Remember your waters.
May the waters all run free.
May the waters all run clean.