Field Day Traditions

Skinned knees
And grass stained shorts
Gaped tooth smiles
And conspiratorial giggles
Tug of War
And the balloon toss
All in a Field Day

Memorial Day

Day of memories.

The start of summer.

First time bare feet

Race across the tickling

Blades of grass.

First taste of

Charcoal charred hot dogs

And licking fingers

From Popsicle juice.

First chance to catch the sun

And wear it as a badge of honor

On a blistering arm.

First chance to spend a Sunday evening

Watching the late show of stars

In anticipation

Of summer Sundays

Without school Mondays.

Summit Avenue

Lilac branches

Form a Cathedral canopy

For baby bunnies

Claiming sanctuary

In the perfumed lair.

The celebration of

Communion continues

With its incense

To the gods of spring.

Farmer's Market

Armed with bursting bags of produce

Jostling through

The jungle of plants and people

Spying just the right addition to dinner

Or a future menu

Buried in the garden.

Twins Game Tonight

We're gonna win Twins

We hope they score!

We're gonna win Twins

And we hope it doesn't pour!

Good bye Harmon

Sunday afternoons

Twins on the old tube radio

In the garage.

Dad's green web lounger

Lounging in the driveway.

He never sat still long enough

To enjoy it

But it represented

The laziness of the day.

Sitting barefoot,

Elbows to knees

Listening to the song of the game.

The awe of hearing

Our heroes announced

And imagining their smile

And stance as we dreamed

Of home runs,

Baseball, hot dogs

Apple pie and Chevrolet.

In Honor Of Bob's 70th

To remember the child with in you

The smiling eyes

The laughing soul.

To keep that spirit of hope

And love alive

Through the mundane

And befuddled years.

To celebrate

The learning and wisdom

But with a touch of innocence

To stay "forever young".

Waiting for the Repairman

It must be nice to live in their world.

They even have their own language.

Tomorrow could mean next week

And we'll call you is like

What you say after a bad first date.

Time is measured differently.

In the time it takes to give birth

October to May

They're still gestating

Our remodeling project.

But we do seem to share

The bottom line

And we'll all be happy

When we reach it.

Unstable Like the Weather

My nerves are jumping rope

With anxiety.

Chanting worries

Like rhymes

As the clouds

Play hide and seek

With the sun.

I try to bury my head

In a book

Or under the covers.

Finally lightning strikes

Illuminating the fact

That I'm just a little

Under the weather.

Bunny Hop

Front paws

Tapping the dewy grass

Creating a soft washcloth

For his morning ablutions.

Grooming

His tall grey ears

He nods his head in agreement

With the sun's assessment

Of his beauty.

Training Wheels

Red pedal pushers

Over skinny legs

Frantically turning the wheels

She staggers to a stop at the corner

And tumbles to the boulevard.

Instantly, like guide wires

Supporting her

Her mom appears

Murmuring condolences

And encouragement.

Chin up

Helmet down

The girl returns to her perch

And pedals off

Training wheels and mom

Still attached.

Waiting for the Lilacs

From bug like buds

To full blown bouquets

It takes only a minute

A teardrop of rain

A sliver of sun

And the precious gift

Of a warm spring day

For the lilacs to burst

Into bloom.

Dog Blog

The lumbering Lab

Paced outside the liquor store

His head jerking up

Each time someone came out.

The Beagles on the porch

Looked longingly out the window

Waiting for the key

To turn in the lock.

The corgi on the leash

Pants and pulls

Straining to return his owner

To their home.

Dogs loyally waiting for

Their Masters.

Teachers Teaching Teachers

Sitting at a meeting

Staring at the blank

Computer screen

For two hours

While someone talks

About the computer program

We'll be using next year.

When the screen saver appears

Flashing a fantastic slide show

Of a Cancun vacation.

And I finally have something

To focus on!

Fun at Palace

On a beautiful

Spring Day!

Seeing Things in a New Light

The red light
At the stop sign
Glows like the sun
Against a blue sky.
Dotted matrix of color
Creating a circle of fire
Symbol within
An electronic grid
Sending signals
To be misread
As a reminder to stop
And admire the sunset.

Tom Sawyer

Painting pickets

Is a study in patience

And geometry.

Patterns and designs

A labyrinth of

Lines and angles.

Van Gogh with a Starry Night

Didn't have such corners

To get into.

The Magic of Spring

Now you see it

Now you don't

The bare branches

On dull grey streets

Abracadabra

The leafy canopy

Over the avenue.

Now if we could only put

Some of the rabbits

That have been eating my tulips

Back in the hat...

Not My Fault!

What a frustrating day. We’re very sorry that you’ve been unable to publish to Blogger for the past 20.5 hours. We’re nearly back to normal — you can publish again, and in the coming hours posts and comments that were temporarily removed should be restored. Thank you for your patience while we fix this situation. We use Blogger for our own blogs, so we’ve also felt your pain.

Here’s what happened: during scheduled maintenance work Wednesday night, we experienced some data corruption that impacted Blogger’s behavior. Since then, bloggers and readers may have experienced a variety of anomalies including intermittent outages, disappearing posts, and arriving at unintended blogs or error pages. A small subset of Blogger users (we estimate 0.16%) may have encountered additional problems specific to their accounts. Yesterday we returned Blogger to a pre-maintenance state and placed the service in read-only mode while we worked on restoring all content: that’s why you haven’t been able to publish. We rolled back to a version of Blogger as of Wednesday May 11th, so your posts since then were temporarily removed. Those are the posts that we’re in the progress of restoring.

Again, we are very sorry for the impact to our authors and readers. We try hard to ensure Blogger is always available for you to share your thoughts and opinions with the world, and we’ll do our best to prevent this from happening again.

Posted by Eddie Kessler, Tech Lead/Manager, Blogger

Mid-May

Kids are in the Library
A moment to catch my breath
Weather for the summer
Reminds me not much left.

Library Volunteer Dinner with guest speaker

Gail Rosenblum.

Good food

Good company

A great night!

It's in Our Genes

Motherhood is a special function

Of our dysfunctional lives.

A scarred, scared young female

Thrown into the arena

To fight it out

With nature and nurture

History and the family tree.

Like the mama lion

Learning passed instinct

To protect herself

Ad her future self

To nourish and nurture

To protect and possess

To carry DNA

And carry on our humanity.

Happy Mother's Day!

Spring Green

The elusive color,

Like Brigadoon,

Appearing once a year.

The hue between

Empty branches

And emerald green

Shimmers in and out of view

Before it bursts on the scene

Like magic.

A camouflage

For the secret invasion of spring

Festival of Nations

Eating our way around the world.

Shopping at China and Czechoslovakia

Swaying to Jamaican steel drums

And being mesmerised

By the Lebanese dancers.

Enjoying the world at our fingertips

At the Festival of Nations

Sorry Honey It's Thursday

Weekend dreams

Are starting earlier.

Thinking of sleeping in

And lounging around,

Plans for projects

And leisure

Are starting to creep in

On Wednesday and Thursday

Instead of politely

Waiting till Friday.

It must be May.

Gardening

Digging in the dirt

Therapeutic work

Replacing the ink on my hands

With soil.

Bending and stretching

Where I've been sitting all day.

Breathing out the

Stale dull air

And expand

With the freshness of spring.

May Day

Warm sun on cold skin

Melting the icicles in the veins.

Blood thawing,

Stirring at the sounds

Of birds and breezes.

Heart dancing to the Salsa beat

Of bicycle tires

On the bumpy sidewalk.

Head nodding

Shielding tender eyes

From the lusty rays of the sun.

Pink toe nails tapping

To feel the soft moist earth.

Fingers racing across the page

To capture

This first burst of spring.

Bin Laden

Not a cheer
But a prayer
A sigh of relief
And the hope for peace.

My class, including Peace Essay winners
With Maxine from the Community reporter