Merely Day By Day

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 ou...

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 ...

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 Simon ,  Leigh Anne Eck ,  Michelle Haseltine ,  Linda Baie ,  Julieanne 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 ...

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 Simon ,  Leigh Anne Eck ,  Michelle Haseltine ,  Linda Baie ,  Julieanne Harmatz , and  Kevin Hodgson  for giving the final push.  We are linking using the hashtag #digipoetry.  I have to also thank my everyday poetry me...

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 th...

i regret not making exercise healthier foods part of my routine worrying about a clean house when my grandparents called to visit never slowing down enough to enjoy moments that slipped through my fingertips not sitting down to listen every time my children told me a story not organizing the pictures that captured the moments we shared letting the busyness of life keep me from staying connected with my very best friends putting "to do" before to enjoy to help, to love not taking chances because i thought i just couldn't i regret everything © Cathy L. Mere, 2015 I really don't regret everything, but yet there are always those things that nag us a bit.  On quiet, contemplative days, regret is an easy thing to think about.  Life moves quickly.  It's hard to keep up with it's pace and demand.  I'm always envious of those who seem to sail their ships through calm waters with the sun shining day after day.  The other day, I...

In the Gloaming The place where charcoal clouds resting upon a blue-black backdrop coalesce; blushing clouds  resting upon a cerulean canvas. The line where day meets night - twilight. © Cathy L. Mere, 2015 It's April and National Poetry Month.  I'm writing a poem every day to help celebrate!  Thanks to  Margaret Simon ,  Leigh Anne Eck ,  Michelle Haseltine ,  Linda Baie ,  Julieanne 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. 

what if you no longer notice? after how many years do you fail to notice the deepness of spring green; the way the flowers parade, crocus to daffodils, hyacinths to tulips, bud to leaf? what happens on the morning you no longer note the iridescence of the sky as the sun ascends, celebrate the chorus of birds outside your window, smile over the smell of coffee brewing? how many times do you drive down a road before you stop paying attention to the faces of those who race past you on the endless road rushing from here to there? how many billboards do you pass before you stop reading, stop caring about what you might need, where you should stop; ignoring the messages as they race by in a blur? how many stories do you hear before you stop listening, stop believing the words, no longer wondering what happened or might happen next, no longer feeling the heaviness? what does it mean if you no longer notice? © Cathy L. Mere, 2015 To...

Image via WikiMedia Commonsby Snowman Radio Clever Parrot When I told my mom I wanted a parrot      she said, "There's just no way." When I brought it home to live with me,      she said, "It cannot stay!" But stay it did, for quite some time,      as days turned into weeks, My mom's patience began to wane      as screams came from its beak. The screams could not be hushed      the shrieks they were so shrill. My mom she grew quite agitated,      she wanted him to chill. I convinced her a friend was all,      my pet parrot really did need. We added another bird to the cage,      and gave them fresh water and seed. "Polly wants a cracker,"      would have been nice to hear them say. Instead they repeated words they shouldn't,      and words that weren't okay. I tried to teach them manners,     ...

Monday rests on the other side of night. The weekend now a distant light. Gone are friends and family fun. Gone are days that blend to one. Where sunshine feels bright and bold. Where moments put our breath on hold. Days where laughter filled our heart. Days which now, we each must part. The curtain closes on the stage this time. No time for encore; the bell does chime. The clock strikes midnight; the cuckoo sings. The days have passed, we try to cling. The rain pours quickly from the sky. The dark clouds feel our deepest cry. The weekend's gone, to be no more. We must move on, must close the door. But, oh, the fun we two did share. Those days we didn't have a care. Mondays will come and they will go; The week will surely go too slow. Hopefully again we two shall meet; Myself and weekend soft and sweet. Until that time we meet again; I'll think of you and smile within. © Cathy L. Mere, 2015 So....there are poems we write that probably shouldn...

Thanks to  Margaret Simon ,  Leigh Anne Eck ,  Michelle Haseltine ,  Linda Baie ,  Julieanne 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 Robyn Hood Black's space, Life on the Deckled Edge , where she hosts today's parade of wondrous words.

Today was our first day of our after school poetry writing class.  We have nearly sixty students staying to read and write poetry with us.  We started by dividing into smaller groups and writing poems about the playground.  The students loved playing with words, searching for meaning, and finding rhythms.   Tonight, I thought I'd write a little poem about the playground.  I'm always amazed by the students that work for days, sometimes weeks, to learn to cross the rings.  Day after day they return to try again until they finally make it across the silver rings.   Shared Poetry Writing Image by Carolyn Carr Bravely each day, she eyes the rings, taking a leap, working to cross. Determined she swings, each silver ring seeming farther than the last. Courageously she returns day after day, swinging harder, gripping tightly. Persisting she tries and tries again, learning tricks, building strength. Undaunted sh...

Light Will Come One Day by Mozamell Hossain Shahdom via WikiMedia Commons Nothing is different in darkness; the trees are still green, the grass still bends in the wind. Nothing is different in darkness; the cats still prowl the birds still rest in their nests. Nothing is different in darkness; you can still sit at the table, the door still opens into the world. Though it may seem harder to find the way, look up at the stars, light your candle, you can find your way. © Cathy L. Mere, 2015 It's April and National Poetry Month.  I'm writing a poem every day to help celebrate!  Thanks to  Margaret Simon ,  Leigh Anne Eck ,  Michelle Haseltine ,  Linda Baie ,  Julieanne 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 cont...

walking through the quiet house into rooms once filled with laughter now only silence  lives there Cathy L. Mere, 2015 It's April and National Poetry Month.  I'm writing a poem every day to help celebrate!  Thanks to  Margaret Simon ,  Leigh Anne Eck ,  Michelle Haseltine ,  Linda Baie ,  Julieanne 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. 

Image via WikiMedia Commons by Gilles San Martin 2009 Children love you for your color, your red and orange bright wings, the black spots upon your back, the fact that you don't sting. You are the star of children's books, always kind and always true, your gentle ways they note, make others happy through and through. Farmers love you too, for the way you love to eat, you keep their crops quite healthy. with aphids a favorite treat. I must confess the truth to my readers stopping by, I'm not your biggest fan hoping away you soon do fly. You leave the fields behind us, for a place that's safe and warm. cuddle up in tiny spaces, stay safe from winter storms. When I try to toss you out, you play dead and laugh at me, your friends come soon to join you oh how happy you must be. Unlike the fly who's life span is hardly thirty days, you live for two or three years and never go away! Ladybug do me a favor make the field your home, th...

Oh, dear duck from the sky you see, the body of water that calls to thee. But, oh, dear duck, do not be faked. It's not a pond, for goodness sake. It's not a lake. It's not a creek. It's not the home that you now seek. Though the water's calm and still; you won't find food to fill your bill. Don't come here to make a nest or lay your eggs or take a rest. But please stop by to play and float, to take a bath or clean your coat. Oh, dear duck, you must still roam find a better place to be your home. © Cathy L. Mere, 2015 We have quite a pond in our backyard.  Days and days of rain have made this a favorite stop for ducks passing through.  Some years we have had ducks decide to stay only to find their beautiful pond quickly goes away.   Thanks to  Margaret Simon ,  Leigh Anne Eck ,  Michelle Haseltine ,  Linda Baie ,  Julieanne Harmatz , and  Kevin Hodgson  for giving the final push.  We ...

this morning's surprise, opening toward the sky: tiny daffodils. © Cathy L. Mere, 2015 Thanks to  Margaret Simon ,  Leigh Anne Eck ,  Michelle Haseltine ,  Linda Baie ,  Julieanne 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. 

What if  questions  were more important than  answers; learning  was more essential than  testing?   What if  love  got more attention than  hate; the heart was celebrated more than  the head?   What if listening was more common than talking; empathy more prevalent than indifference? What if kindness was more revered than selfishness; tolerance more universal than prejudice? What if  slowing down mattered more than  hurrying; following dreams  was something everyone did?   What if  failing really didn't matter, instead it helped you to grow? What if it wasn't the destination we pursued, but the journey; our yesterdays not as significant as today. © Cathy L. Mere, 2015 Thanks to  Margaret Simon ,  Leigh Anne Eck ,  Michelle Haseltine ,  Linda Baie ,  Julieanne Harmatz , and  Kevin Hodgson  f...

The basketballs still bounce when the batters start to swing. There is no break in sports to let you slow down things. The catchers still catch when the quarterback starts to throw. A sportsman dream come true, he'll happily tell you so. © Cathy L. Mere, 2015 Thanks to  Margaret Simon ,  Leigh Anne Eck ,  Michelle Haseltine ,  Linda Baie ,  Julieanne 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. 

Only in the quiet can you hear the bubbling of the fish tank; the clicking of the dog's feet across the hardwood floor. Only in the quiet can you hear the rumble of the truck; the hum of electricity racing from darkness to light. Only in the quiet can you hear the reflections of the day; the memories of times cherished. Only in the quiet can you hear your true voice; the stories and words that fill your soul. @Cathy L. Mere, 2015 Thanks to  Margaret Simon ,  Leigh Anne Eck ,  Michelle Haseltine ,  Linda Baie ,  Julieanne 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. 

Thanks to  Margaret Simon ,  Leigh Anne Eck ,  Michelle Haseltine ,  Linda Baie ,  Julieanne 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. 

Today is my son's birthday.  I'm not sure how I have children so old all of a sudden.  It seems I blinked and their childhoods had raced right by.  Happy birthday, John.   I remember when you army crawled across the living room floor. When my biggest concern was that you would steal the pacifier of an infant passing by. I remember when you fixed everything in our house with plastic tools. When my biggest concern was which story we would read before bed. I remember when you raced around the soccer field chasing the soccer ball as if it was magnetic. When my biggest concern was that you could hear us cheering you on from the sidelines. I remember when your friends carried small televisions into our house. Cords made paths from player to player in an intense challenge of skill. When my biggest concern was having enough food for your friends. I remember when toy cars were replaced with real cars. You'd get behind the wh...

photo Lisa Rainsong find out more about Spring Peepers on her blog:   Listening in Nature In darkness you serenade; your friends  join the symphony. The melody grows,  vibrating across fields  now turning green. While an X marks your back, you cannot be found as you hide like treasure. Camouflaged  in dead leaves, rotting logs, you sing your song long into the night. Your friends  join you, the chorus  an ever-rising  crescendo.  © Cathy L. Mere, 2015 It's Poetry Friday!  Stop by The Poem Farm  where Amy Ludwig VanDerwater hosts today's parade of wondrous words. This month I will be writing a poem each day to celebrate National Poetry Month.  Thanks to  Margaret Simon ,  Leigh Anne Eck ,  Michelle Haseltine ,  Linda Baie ,  Julieanne Harmatz , and  Kevin Hodgson  for giving the final push.  We are link...

Thanks to  Margaret Simon ,  Leigh Anne Eck ,  Michelle Haseltine ,  Linda Baie ,  Julieanne 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.