I once told Mary Lee Hahn that I loved how she managed to live her life as one long poem. (I still consider her a role model in that regard.) Now, in celebration of her retirement from 37 years of teaching and the beginning of a new "stanza" in her life, I am delighted to be able to pay tribute to her publicly.
No doubt there are hundreds of former fourth and fifth
graders who are better human beings for having experienced Ms. Hahn's
benevolent guidance in the classroom, but I'd like to speak to the impact Mary Lee has had on me and the TLD community. The first time I sang her praises was in 2014 when she was a featured guest in the Haiku Garden. Since then, she's become a friend as well as a dependable presence on Today's Little Ditty. She's contributed to numerous DMC challenges (with six poems selected for The Best of Today's Little Ditty anthologies) and has inspired readers not only with her words, but with her drive to stretch limits and make her voice heard—creatively and otherwise.
There's a song called "Pulling on a Line" that reminds me of Mary Lee whenever I hear it. It makes me think of her passion for fly fishing and her association with Casting for Recovery, but it also brings to mind the creative process that is a constant presence in her life. For me, it represents the thread of that lifelong poem that stays with Mary Lee from day to day, month to month, and year to year.
It sways in the air when there's wind enough to lift
The fine ones are boundaries when there is a rift
I'm just pulling on a line, on a line
Oh I'm just pulling on a line I'm just pulling on a line, on a line But sometimes it pulls on me
The line, it inks across the freshly fallen snow Where only those embracing coldness would go In whistles and in whispers and sometimes in howls It sings to me sweetly from trees and in vowels
I'm just pulling on a line, on a line Oh I'm just pulling on a line I'm just pulling on a line, on a line But sometimes it pulls on me
The line, it writes itself across the dark sky In the air, electric flashes ending with a sigh It weaves itself into a fabric so true And flows just like the river, graceful and blue
I'm just pulling on a line, on a line Oh I'm just pulling on a line I'm just pulling on a line, on a line But sometimes it pulls on me
Many thanks to Michelle Schaub for featuring my poem "Look for the Helpers" on Poetry Boost this past week! Click HERE to read her wonderful blog post about using poetry in the classroom to encourage empathy and spread kindness.
Christie
Wyman hosts this week's Poetry Friday roundup with an abundance of
heartfelt tributes to #MarvellousMaryLee. You'll find the festivities at
Wondering and Wandering.
BUTTERFLY EFFECT You lured me into the dark kitchen at the back of the gym with the promise of extra candy.
With perfect gymnast posture I stood in the doorway showing off the orange gauzy wings my mother sewed on my black leotard to complete my metamorphosis into a butterfly for the team Halloween party.
Your compliment, “You are as cute as a bug,” said in a heady voice, made something deep inside me shift.
I knew something about the situation was wrong.
But I was 10.
And you were my coach.
Click HERE
to read this month's interview with Carrie Clickard. Her DMC challenge
is to write a poem about a person, place, or thing that spooked you as a
child.
Post your poem on our October 2017 padlet.
While some contributions will be featured as daily ditties this month,
all contributions will be included in a wrap-up celebration on Friday,
October 27th, and one lucky participant will win a personalized copy of
her enchanting new picture book from Holiday House:
Kindness is planting milkweed seed for a monarch butterfly we've never met. My daughter and I dig a trench along a wooded path, where just a bit of light comes in. It's place where a caterpillar might live its days in emerald twilight, munching its favorite food, until it winds hope about itself. Then it can be still, listening to the wind and the dog walkers, the trail joggers and the children finding pebbles among the leaves and earth in this green place of wishes. Kindness is hoping it grows. Kindness is carrying water in two hands, sloshed onto colorful sneakers, dribbled onto a rumpled trench. Kindness is wishing all winter for not-too-cold, not-too-dry, for that seed to remember the loving hands that patted the soil into place. Kindness is imagining the world orange and yellow, full of fluttering wings, Without a care for oneself.
Rebecca M. Davis has challenged us to write poems about acts of kindness
this month– the more specific and vivid the better. Click HERE for more details.
Send
your poem to TodaysLittleDitty (at) gmail (dot) com, or use the contact
form in the sidebar to the right. All contributions will be included in
a wrap-up celebration this Friday, November 27th, and one lucky
participant will win copies of two delightful picture books published by
Boyds Mills Press: THIS ORQ. (HE CAVE BOY.) and THIS ORQ. (HE SAY
"UGH!") by David Elliott, illustrated by Lori Nichols.
The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough. ~Rabindranath Tagor
The annual migration of monarch butterflies to Mexico is one of nature's most awe-inspiring spectacles. After Matt Forrest Esenwine's beautiful haiku from earlier this week, I wanted to spend a little more time with these regal creatures. For those of you who have never seen migration footage, here is a video taken at El Rosario Monarch Butterfly Sanctuary in 2011.
The video opens with a statement that 150 million monarchs came back in the 2010-2011 season despite a devastating cold storm that killed off millions. Since then, the monarch population has faced much worse threats, causing their numbers to plunge in 2013 to the lowest level in at least 20 years. This is according to an article in the New York Times from March of last year. The article goes on to say that while the monarchs' plight is not yet at a crisis point, there are things we can and must do with regard to replenishing milkweed and changing some farming practices. Once again, humans are pushing the limits of what our planet can sustain.
And on that note, I'd like to leave you with this poem by Joan Murray:
Chrysalis
by Joan Murray
1
It's mid-September, and in the Magic Wing Butterfly Conservancy
in Deerfield, Massachusetts, the woman at the register
is ringing up the items of a small girl and her mother.
There are pencils and postcards and a paperweight--
all with butterflies--and, chilly but alive,
three monarch caterpillars--in small white boxes
with cellophane tops, and holes punched in their sides.
The girl keeps rearranging them like a shell game
while the cashier chats with her mother: "They have to
feed on milkweed--you can buy it in the nursery outside."
"We've got a field behind our house," the mother answers.
The cashier smiles to show she didn't need the sale:
"And in no time, they'll be on their way to Brazil or Argentina--
or wherever they go--" ("to Mexico," says the girl,
though she's ignored) "and you can watch them
do their thing till they're ready to fly."
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16237#sthash.6Eqs0Y07.dpuf
Chrysalis
by Joan Murray
1
It's mid-September, and in the Magic Wing Butterfly Conservancy
in Deerfield, Massachusetts, the woman at the register
is ringing up the items of a small girl and her mother.
There are pencils and postcards and a paperweight--
all with butterflies--and, chilly but alive,
three monarch caterpillars--in small white boxes
with cellophane tops, and holes punched in their sides.
The girl keeps rearranging them like a shell game
while the cashier chats with her mother: "They have to
feed on milkweed--you can buy it in the nursery outside."
"We've got a field behind our house," the mother answers.
The cashier smiles to show she didn't need the sale:
"And in no time, they'll be on their way to Brazil or Argentina--
or wherever they go--" ("to Mexico," says the girl,
though she's ignored) "and you can watch them
do their thing till they're ready to fly."
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16237#sthash.6Eqs0Y07.dpuf
Chrysalis
by Joan Murray
1
It's mid-September, and in the Magic Wing Butterfly Conservancy
in Deerfield, Massachusetts, the woman at the register
is ringing up the items of a small girl and her mother.
There are pencils and postcards and a paperweight--
all with butterflies--and, chilly but alive,
three monarch caterpillars--in small white boxes
with cellophane tops, and holes punched in their sides.
The girl keeps rearranging them like a shell game
while the cashier chats with her mother: "They have to
feed on milkweed--you can buy it in the nursery outside."
"We've got a field behind our house," the mother answers.
The cashier smiles to show she didn't need the sale:
"And in no time, they'll be on their way to Brazil or Argentina--
or wherever they go--" ("to Mexico," says the girl,
though she's ignored) "and you can watch them
do their thing till they're ready to fly."
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16237#sthash.6Eqs0Y07.dpuf
Chrysalis
by Joan Murray
1
It's mid-September
It's mid-September, and in the Magic Wing Butterfly Conservancy
in Deerfield, Massachusetts, the woman at the register
is ringing up the items of a small girl and her mother.
There are pencils and postcards and a paperweight--
all with butterflies--and, chilly but alive,
three monarch caterpillars--in small white boxes
with cellophane tops, and holes punched in their sides.
The girl keeps rearranging them like a shell game
while the cashier chats with her mother: "They have to
feed on milkweed--you can buy it in the nursery outside."
"We've got a field behind our house," the mother answers.
The cashier smiles to show she didn't need the sale:
"And in no time, they'll be on their way to Brazil or Argentina--
or wherever they go--" ("to Mexico," says the girl,
though she's ignored) "and you can watch them
do their thing till they're ready to fly."
Next, why don't you migrate over to No Water River, where Renée LaTulippe is hosting today's Poetry Friday roundup and spreading her wings with an exciting new adventure of her own!
While some are still getting more of the wintry white stuff...
Birdfeeders in the snow. Photo by George A. Heidenrich
Others are beginning to enjoy warmer temperatures and the first signs of spring...
I'm quite sure Old Man Winter is not done with us yet (even here in North Florida), but while we enjoy a breather, I'm delighted to welcome the sunny and talented Matt Forrest Esenwine to the Haiku Garden. Many of us have been missing Matt while he recovers from an injury and his blog Radio, Rhythm, and Rhyme has been on hiatus.
It's a special treat to have you here today, Matt!
Thank you for inspiring us with this little beauty:
Ever the optimist, much of Matt's writing reflects a refreshing, hopeful, and positive tone. That's one of the things I like best about his poetry. Whether playful or heartfelt, his writing is always thoughtful and full of life. And if Matt says warmer days are coming, you can bet that I'm a believer!
If you would like to share a haiku on Today's Little Ditty in the
future, please contact me at michelle (at) MichelleHBarnes (dot) com, or
by commenting below.
