Friday, May 15, 2015

Poetry Friday: Bird Watching


Sometimes I think
they come to watch me
as they perch
high on branches
gazing below
chattering feverishly
to one another
in chirps and tweets
flying back and forth
just above me
gliding to a closer tree
to get a better look
at the human
sitting on the patio
pecking away
with her fingers.

© Cathy L. Mere, 2015



It's Poetry Friday!  Stop by Random Noodling where Diane hosts today's parade of wondrous words.

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

Slice of Life: It's a Piece of Cake

I've never considered myself a baker.  It's just not my thing.  Baking takes time --- and patience.  I'm not really someone who has either of these things --- at least not in the kitchen.  I'd much rather cook than bake.  In office potlucks I hope to be assigned sides instead of dessert.  At family gatherings, I cross my fingers someone will ask for cheese potatoes or broccoli casserole.  I'd rather cook the entire meal than be asked to bring dessert.

My sister-in-law is a baker.  She makes glorious cakes that nearly reach the sky.  She makes cookies that are never too brown and always the right height.  I have baker friends who inspire me with their tales of cheesecakes, pies, and biscotti.  Despite all of the experts in my life, I've limited my baking to chocolate chip cookies and cake mix boxes.

Recently things have changed.  Maybe it's the fact that I have more time on my hands.  Maybe I've just decided I don't care how it turns out, I'll give it a try.  Maybe it's the "maker thinking" taking over my mindset.  Last month I decided to try an Oreo cookie cake that turned out edible, if I do say so myself.  When my daughter asked for a chocolate cake for her birthday I decided I would make it from scratch.  I searched recipes, asked for a little advice from baking friends (coffee in a chocolate cake?), and gathered the ingredients to make my own cake.

I've never considered myself a baker, but maybe I'm starting to think we can do anything if we are determined enough to give a try.

It's Tuesday so I'm joining the Slice of Life Challenge hosted by Two Writing Teachers.  


Thursday, April 30, 2015

Poetry Month: Summer Guest 30 of 30

I thought you weren't coming this year,
but today I spotted you,
soaring beneath the sky
wings outstretched
circling above the roof
before descending
into the chimney.

You must be busy in there
building your nest,
cementing sticks to the brick walls,
knowing soon
babies will come.
This nest will keep you safe
through summer.

Chimney swift,
I will watch you
as you sail through the sky
at sunset
searching for insects:
bees, mosquitoes, flies,
for your evening snack.

I will watch
as you glide in the sky above
gracefully swooping
for hours as the sun crosses
from east to west.
You are happy to have returned
to your summer home.

© Cathy L. Mere, 2015


Each year, as spring moves toward summer, our chimney is visited by swifts looking for a summer home.  I'm not a big fan of having birds sharing our home, but it is something I have grown used to in the years since we have moved here.  Our house was built some time ago, and without a metal cover on our chimney, swifts love to set up a home.  I'm used to the cycle.  Every year I think they aren't coming and then one day I hear it, the furious flapping of wings and the chitter chatter of nighttime conversations.   Apparently, they are on the decline due to loss of habitat.  Perhaps we are doing our part for the ecosystem by tolerating their preference for nesting in our chimney.  

It's April and National Poetry Month.  I'm writing a poem every day to help celebrate!  Thanks to Margaret SimonLeigh Anne EckMichelle HaseltineLinda BaieJulieanne Harmatz, and Kevin Hodgson for giving the final push.  We are linking using the hashtag #digipoetry.  I have to also thank my everyday poetry mentors Mary Lee Hahn & Amy Ludwig Vanderwater.  They continually inspire me.  You'll find more poetry on the sidebar. 

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Poetry Month: For the Love of Baseball 28 of 30



Game day
I can still hear Grandma
pacing in the kitchen
as she washes the plates clean
after the last innings
of dinner.

The Big Red Machine
on the radio,
Marty and Joe banter
sharing the play by play.
She listens
talking back to the radio.
The box blares
static between statements,
but she still catches every word.

My sweet
mild mannered grandma
who feeds the birds,
makes us pancakes,
takes us on picnics,
and smiles when
we slide home from the creek
covered in mud,

My loving grandma
isn't so mild mannered
when Johnny Bench
isn't moving fast enough,
when Pete Rose
isn't hitting,
when Griffey misses
a fly ball.

She isn't going to be happy
until she hears them say,
"and this one
belongs to the Reds."

© Cathy L. Mere, 2015

This week the Reds honored the 1990 World Championship team and the notorious Nasty Boys with a celebration.  The rain delay probably gave the celebration more coverage than it would have received. As I watched the celebration, I remembered my grandma and her love of the Reds.  She cheered on the 1990 team, but I will always think of her as a fan of the Big Red Machine.  We would stay with her for a week each summer, and on game night she'd be in the kitchen pacing and yelling calls to the Reds.  Sometimes I was sure she should replace Sparky Anderson.  She loved the game.


It's April and National Poetry Month.  I'm writing a poem every day to help celebrate!  Thanks to Margaret SimonLeigh Anne EckMichelle HaseltineLinda BaieJulieanne Harmatz, and Kevin Hodgson for giving the final push.  We are linking using the hashtag #digipoetry.  I have to also thank my everyday poetry mentors Mary Lee Hahn & Amy Ludwig Vanderwater.  They continually inspire me.  You'll find more poetry on the sidebar. 

It's also Tuesday so I'm joining the Slice of Life Challenge hosted by Two Writing Teachers.  

Monday, April 27, 2015

Poetry Month: Rooted 27 of 30

The tree stands
where it always stood,
watching,
knowing.

It has always been there
providing shade,
lifting its branches
in warm hello.

Its solid trunk
stands tall
helping the tree see
what others cannot.

The dependable tree
waits quietly,
listens,
comforts.

In life's busyness
the tree's forgotten,
leaves fall,
seeds sow.

Time passes,
days
turn to weeks,
weeks to years.

Finally I step outside
where the tree
stands tall,
ever loyal.

The tree awaits,
leaves greener than I remember,
holding my stories,
my comfortable friend.

© Cathy L. Mere, 2015

It's April and National Poetry Month.  I'm writing a poem every day to help celebrate!  Thanks to Margaret SimonLeigh Anne EckMichelle HaseltineLinda BaieJulieanne Harmatz, and Kevin Hodgson for giving the final push.  We are linking using the hashtag #digipoetry.  I have to also thank my everyday poetry mentors Mary Lee Hahn & Amy Ludwig Vanderwater.  They continually inspire me.  You'll find more poetry on the sidebar. 

Sunday, April 26, 2015

Poetry Month: Chocolate Crisis 26 of 30



I looked inside the freezer
and on the pantry shelf,
for just a piece of chocolate
to eat all by myself.

There weren't any Reese's,
no chocolate anywhere.
I looked high and low.
Then looked here and there.

Just one piece of chocolate
is all I want to find.
I've searched in all my hiding spots.
I'll surely lose my mind.

No chocolate behind the coffee pot.
None hidden in the drawer.
Not tucked beside the books.
There has to be some more.

There's not a piece to be found.
I'm really just so blue.
How will I survive without chocolate?
What's a girl to do?

© Cathy L. Mere, 2015


It's April and National Poetry Month.  I'm writing a poem every day to help celebrate!  Thanks to Margaret SimonLeigh Anne EckMichelle HaseltineLinda BaieJulieanne Harmatz, and Kevin Hodgson for giving the final push.  We are linking using the hashtag #digipoetry.  I have to also thank my everyday poetry mentors Mary Lee Hahn & Amy Ludwig Vanderwater.  They continually inspire me.  You'll find more poetry on the sidebar. 

Friday, April 24, 2015

Poetry Month: Night Song 24 of 30

Today our first graders spent some time with poet, Amy Ludwig VanDerwater, discussing poetry.  OH.  MY.  GOODNESS.  During our Skype call Amy shared the different points of view she sometimes uses to write poetry.  She shared the story of the small creature she watched racing in and out of a wall.  She talked about the many ways she could write about that.  One way she shared was by writing AS the creature (or other animal/object/etc.).  She called this a MASK poem.  After our time with her, we talked about the ways we might write our poetry.  I was telling a student about the coyotes I hear each night in the field behind our house.  I decided, after Amy's conversation, to write a poem as the coyote for Poetry Friday.  

Image:  Rebecca Richardson (2008)
via WikiMedia Commons
NIGHT SONG
When the sun
is replaced
by the night sky,
     I call.

When the moon
rises, faintly lighting
the earth below,
     I call.

When the stars look
down upon the world
gently twinkling,
     I call.

In the dark night
others join
the chorus;
     I call.

While others rest,
     I roam.
While others sleep,
     I hunt.
While others hide,
     I seek.
In the silence,
     I call.

You hear me,
     howling deep into the night.

© Cathy L. Mere



Thanks to Margaret SimonLeigh Anne EckMichelle HaseltineLinda BaieJulieanne Harmatz, and Kevin Hodgson for giving the final push.  We are linking using the hashtag #digipoetry.  I have to also thank my everyday poetry mentors Mary Lee Hahn & Amy Ludwig Vanderwater.  They continually inspire me.  You'll find more poetry on the sidebar. 


It's Poetry Friday!  Stop by No Water River where Renée LaTulippe hosts today's parade of wondrous words.