The Guardians

I am extremely tired tonight after a long dress rehearsal for Saturday night’s Spoken Word performance. I am extremely excited about this. The other poets and storytellers are marvelous. I am always awed to hear my words interspersed with the words of such intrepid and creative wordsmiths. Tonight’s poem on Guardians will be something of a place-holder so I can get more quickly to bed.

First was the angel with golden wings,
then a wild crone with her hair on fire,
and a tiny owl with a fierce bright eye.

Next came a pair of wee folk whose names
were as melodious as their meanings,
followed by a dark and silent woman with a silver pen.

A ginger-haired gnome on a chicken came next,
with an ebony goddess in a yellow dress,
and a wave, and a stone, a feather, and a flame.

Today we met the Guardians. Tomorrow is the day for the Challengers. Who are the Challengers you Fool faces on her Journey?

Gratitude List:
1. The compliment fest. This afternoon, a boy in one of my classes suggested we go around and give each other compliments. I was a little reluctant to put people on the spot, so he took a piece of paper and spent the study part of the period writing a compliment for everyone in the class, and then before the period was over, he went around the room, looking everyone in the eye, and told each of us something he liked about us. These were deep and thoughtful compliments–he clearly sees us. Such a powerful inspiration. My week was made.
2. This preppy spring with its stylish pinks and greens
3. The emotional wisdom of young people
4. Spoken Words
5. Revisions

May we walk in Beauty!

Sun’s Up

I was offline all evening yesterday due to a power outage. Perhaps I needed something to make me wait to write the Sun poem until the sun was rising to birdsong.

Here’s a little catch-up:

by Beth Weaver-Kreider

Of course they call it up,
each morning, their voices
rising, each one adding a new note,
first titmouse, peter-peter,
then the pret-ty pret-ty cardinal,
someone singing SWEET-sweet,
and then, slightly off-key,
but eager to be part of the show,
Sweet George Peabody the white-throat
says his lonely name.

Today, the Fool considers her Guardians. Who are her protectors? Who cares for her in unseen ways, offers advice and aid when necessary?