Saturday, February 18, 2017

Mother Nature Gets a Few Things Off Her Chest


photo via unsplash

Mother Nature Gets a Few Things Off Her Chest

The human race
is a disaster.
They use their big brains
to foam with wrath
about fake news and propaganda and change.

They ignore me when they aren't
paving
mining
fracking
polluting
damming
deforesting
acidifying
dumping
obliterating
or otherwise
killing
me.

I am the truth.
I will remain
when the last earthquake
or the last drought
erases
the last human
from this planet.

They are helpless.
I do not practice conservation.
They will pay attention and live in harmony with me
or they will be erased from the equation of life.

They seem to have made their choice.
May the end come quickly.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017




This is a poem for Laura Shovan's Annual February Writing Project. The words/phrases for this poem

truth
nature
earthquake
fake
disaster
conservation
wrath
helpless
propaganda
drought

originated here.



Monday, February 13, 2017

Baking Bread (or Life in The Modern World)


photo via unsplash


Baking Bread (or Life in The Modern World)

Why can't it be easy for once?
Instead, it starts off sticky
and keeps getting stickier
until necessary intervention.

Slow down.
Slower,
less speed,
deep breaths.

Suddenly, stickier becomes smoother
and by now you should know better --
difficult hides behind a screen of pliable
and soft is a precursor to crunchy.

Next comes growth.
A time of pure yeasty optimism
until the smashing and scraping
brings everything back into perspective

and before you know it
the boundaries are set
the heat is applied
the outcome revealed.

There is no such thing as easy,
only repetition after repetition.
Savor the warmth, the freshness.
Then start again.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017





This is a poem for Laura Shovan's Annual February Writing Project. The words/phrases for this poem

screen
shoot
stickier
soft
smashing
scraping
speed
smoother
slower
sticky

originated here.


Thursday, February 9, 2017

They Can't Shut Us All Up


photo via unsplash


They Can't Shut Us All Up

They can shut me up
but they can't change the truth--
I'm Rosa and Hillary, Malala and Ruth.

They can silence my voice
but I'll lead and you'll follow--
I'm Keller and Earhart, Cleopatra and Kahlo.

We rivet and code,
we teach and we heal,
orbit Earth, win Nobels,
go to prison for ideals.

They can't shut us all up
and they can't change what's true--
we're here to write history in PINK, not in blue.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017




This is a poem for Laura Shovan's Annual February Writing Project. The words/phrases for this poem

they
can
shut
me
up
but
they
can't
change
the 
truth

originated here.



Monday, February 6, 2017

We Were Buoyant

photo via unsplash

We Were Buoyant

We were buoyant,
sure and confident.

Now, at the bottom of a chasm,
nearly buried in negativity,

we keep our eye on the edge
and work to relocate,

tow ourselves back up,
weather this disruption of democracy,

melt the ice that encases our heart
and remember who we truly are.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017






This is a poem for Laura Shovan's Annual February Writing Project. The words/phrases for this poem

ice
chasm
buoyant
exploration
relocation
disruption
buried
edge
tow
weather

originated here.


Sunday, February 5, 2017

Memories


photo via unsplash


memories of you
hidden in every corner
of my heart


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017





This is a poem for Laura Shovan's Annual February Writing Project. The words/phrases for this poem

heart
women
escapism
roast
pudding
memories
touched
lasting
hidden
inspiring

originated here.



Saturday, February 4, 2017

Mother Moon


photo via unsplash

mother moon
wandering ancient sky-paths
tilts me a smile

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017




This is a poem for Laura Shovan's Annual February Writing Project. The words/phrases for this poem

axis
rotation
wander
tilt
ancient
face
analyze
paint
creep
path

originated here.

Friday, February 3, 2017

Problem Solving Abecedarian




Problem Solving Abecedarian

Around the block I
bicycle, over and over until the idea I've
conceived is firm and true, every
detail considered from ever angle. This
exercise
(four kinds: head, heart, legs, and lungs)
grants me
huge benefits; pays me vast
interest when
juggling all life throws my way.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017



This is a poem for Laura Shovan's Annual February Writing Project. The words/phrases for this poem

around
bicycle
conceived
detail
exercise
four
grants
huge
interest
juggling

originated here.


Thursday, February 2, 2017

Education is Not a Business


photo via unsplash
Education is Not a Business

The child lines up his teddy bears
to teach them ABCs.
He guides them gently in the task,
"The way Miss Smith taught me."

"We learn to share, hold hands in line,
protect and help and hug.
At story time in the media center
we find our place on the rug."

The profits from our nation's schools
aren't measured with nickels and dimes.
Our future's there within those walls --
let's polish them 'til they shine.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017



This is a poem for Laura Shovan's Annual February Writing Project. The words/phrases for this poem

worldview
help
shareholders
safer
protections
dishonest
media
replace
business
Messiah

originated here.



Wednesday, February 1, 2017

Teacher

photo via unsplash

Teacher

Nothing prepared her for
the psychology of the actors,
the unfamiliar narrative framework,
the doubt she barely concealed
that bravery would ever find her.

And no one told her about
the tears that would suddenly pool,
the ache she couldn’t heal,
the glory of the learning
that would transcend it all.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017





This is a poem for Laura Shovan's Annual February Writing Project. The words/phrases for this poem

psychology
actors
narrative
framework
pool
bravery
transcends
capture
conceal
doubt

originated here.



Tuesday, January 31, 2017

Three Nightmares


photo via unsplash

Three Nightmares

stranded
no poetry, music, art
TV blares news

accolades
forgotten or damaged
I'm fired

summer
bobbing in its wake
unrested


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017



This is a warmup poem for Laura Shovan's Annual February Writing Project. The words/phrases for this poem

fire
accolades
summer
damaged
wake
news
suspects
french
shooting
stranded

originated here.


Monday, January 30, 2017

On the Way to the March



On the Way to the March

A wall of cars
blocked our lane.
They were lined up
not to appeal for freedom
or for suffering to be overcome
but for
the
car
wash.

It was an ordinary day.
They were thankful
(if they were even aware)
for the division of their spirit
from their conscience.
They lolled in 20th Century
thoughtlessness.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017





This is a warmup poem for Laura Shovan's Annual February Writing Project. The words/phrases for this poem

division
wall
freedom
20th Century
overcome
spirit
historical
thank
appeal
suffering

originated in a German article about the people of Berlin urging Trump not to build a wall at the Mexican border. Not this article exactly, but something like this.

Saturday, January 28, 2017

If Ranted


Flickr Creative Commons photo by Delete

If Ranted, Don't Ignore

respond
answer directly
communicate

communicate
exercise eloquence
impact

impact
influence and transform
unite

unite
with increasing volume

not simple, not impossible


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017




This is a warmup poem for Laura Shovan's Annual February Writing Project. The words/phrases for this poem

rant
ignore
directly
answering
simple
volume
impossible
impact
respond
communicate

originated here.

The idea of using tercets was inspired by Michelle Barnes' post here.


Thursday, January 26, 2017

Cold to the Bone

image via unsplash

Confronting Icy Water is Directly Linked to Revolution

Standing at the edge,
I brace myself for the harsh truth,
the cold shock that awaits.

My commitment pushes me
to dive deep, invisibilizing below the surface,
rewriting the liberation of my body.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017





I am joining Laura Shovan's Annual February Writing Project. The words/phrases for this poem originated here.



Friday, November 25, 2016

#haikuforhealing

An unsolicited email showed up in my inbox. Rather than spam, it seemed like a message from the universe. Here are the big ideas:

5 Insights for Recording Artists, Performers, and Creatives 

1. Make Art for Social Change

2. Channel Your Pain into Art

3. If You See It, Say It, Sing It, or Sculpt It...

4. Be Visible

5. Collaborate


In a seemingly unrelated email, Carol Wilcox asked if I was planning to write a haiku a day in December again this year. 

My creative spirit, who has been sitting out on the porch with her head between her knees for the last couple of weeks, looked up and nodded. Yes, that seems right, she said. A response to the news of the day, shared in the concise metaphorical form of the haiku. 

#haikuforhealing

Perhaps a month of haiku won't heal the world, but it may begin the process of healing my spirit. Join in if you'd like, by using the hashtag on Twitter or FaceBook.

Tanita's haiku are at [fiction, instead of lies]
Michelle's haiku can be found archived in one post at Today's Little Ditty
Linda Mitchell's are at A Word Edgewise
Margaret's are at Reflections on the Teche
Heidi's are at My Juicy Little Universe
Catherine's are at Reading to the Core
Carol Wilcox's are at Carol's Corner

Buffy Silverman's are at Buffy's Blog
Jone Rush MacCulloch's are at DeoWriter
Diane Mayr's, posted on Thursdays, are at Random Noodling
Julie Johnson's are at at Raising Readers and Writers
Carol Varsalona's are at Beyond LiteracyLink
Linda Baie's are at TeacherDance


All haiku on this page are ©Mary Lee Hahn, 2016.

image via Unsplash


waning moon
darker nights ahead
light the lanterns



11/25 Black Friday

autumn leaves
windblown into the corner
some still fly free




11/26

mob of cawing crows
one hawk flying sure and low
ducks the raving flock





11/27 #BetsyOurLoss

bushels of apples
vibrant orchards with strong trees
menace of blight





11/28 #commonplacemarvels

chickadees and wrens
nuthatches, cardinals, finches
all share the feeder





11/29

after rain
puddles reflect
dark clouds





11/30

overcast skies
unexpected kindness
ray of hope





12/1

Hello, December
Orion races west
Big Dipper empties




12/2

cold wind
oak leaves rattle
long winter ahead




12/3 
(using Linda Mitchell's last line--modified--as my first)

winter tide: rest, rest 
ignore moon's pull: lull, lull 
wave goodbye: surge, surge



12/4
(a meditation on birthdays that are past the half-century mark)

another year
snowflakes gather in drifts
spring melt looms



(in response to a Turkish haiku in #haikuforhealing)

butterfly wings
small movement stirs the air
revolution



12/5

five birds
huddle on the wire
welcome one more



12/6

woodpile expands
winter heat stored in neat stacks
stoke the fires



12/7
(after reading articles about Trump's lies about jobs saved at the Carrier plant
and his designated security advisor is perpetuating fake news
and he knows squat about the Constitution)


brave little mouse
this lion can't be trusted
be vigilant



12/8

dark horizon
menacing storms build strength
children play tag



12/9
(a fun exchange)

from Van Allen (@GRProject43X), in reply to my 12/8 haiku

Your 5-7-5
is short a few beats. Why? Why?
A butterfly weeps.


my response:


my 5-7-5
is not worth tears, butterfly
who's to say what counts?



12/10


naked emperor
prepares to bask in the heat
of a dying Earth



12/11
Poetry to the rescue.

in emergency
dial nine-one-one for body
eight-one-one for soul




12/12
6:00 a.m., The Morning After the Neighborhood Lighting

sheltered
one luminaria
shines on



12/13

prickly day
softened by sticky snow
balm of silence




12/14
Hat-tip to Renee LaTulippe for the first line.

predator-elect
poised atop the food chain
not my keystone




12/15

fifth grade --
teaching parrots
to think




12/16

yammering cuckoo
eagle remains vigilant
beware the talons




12/17

rain stops, ice melts
temperatures keep rising
shroud of fog



12/18
For Birds...and Friends at Solstice Dinner

even a few seeds
are enough for these birds here --
feed your flock




12/19

so much can't be fixed
but when the sink starts to leak
out come the tools




12/20

one bird -- one squawk
a mighty din -- the whole flock
add your voice




12/21
Winter Solstice

our darkest day
followed one spin later
by more light




12/22
#senryu

laundromat
honest work, like-minded folk
everyone comes clean




12/23
Solstice, Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanzaa

light and levity --
we gather all the candles --
blaze away darkness




12/24

under snow
at the base of the old oak
trillium sleep





12/25
Tyrannical Regimes use Isolation as a Weapon of Oppression

harmony, beauty --
haiku sung acapella --
join the chorus




12/26

planet is heating
sixty-eight in December
slow, comfortable death




12/27

sunrise looks forward
lights all the dark corners
fades all the stars




12/28
There are no big box stores, shopping malls, freeways, or stadiums,
but Eastern Colorado has this:

bolt of night fabric
black velvet stretched tight with stars
Milky Way ribbon

or

black bowl of night sky
overturned on plate of land
Milky Way flows




12/29

homecoming
moving target
bullseye shrinks




12/30

ganderless goose
takes young chicken under wing
comfort for both


in the village
a stranger calls for help
answer comes quickly


fuchsia sunrise
be glad for another day
shadows be gone




12/31

mother bird
you raised your chicks to fly
don't be sad


this treacherous road
built by those who came before
fellow travelers


Fox News is Blaring on the Nursing Home TV

giving thanks
for print media's page turns
for website browsing


old oak stands silent
bare branches ache for spring
leaves will return


small town life
so slow, squirrels are safe
no roadkill




1/1
Happy New Year?
You've already forgotten?
Fresh hell awaits us.



I Feel Violated, Not Safe

security
groin alert requires pat down
you could smile, she says



1/2
The Return of Civil Disobedience

Hello, 2017.
Civil disobedience
knocks at your door.




1/3
rain
incapable of deceit
transparent

Unlike this one: Asked if Trump is playing the media with his comments on who was culpable, Woolsey said it was a "possibility," noting that 
Trump is an "expert in weaving around" on issues like this.




1/4
west wind
bitter cold barrels in
chimes complain




1/5
a different kind of #haikuforhealing

cold
(pass the Kleenex)
hazy fog




1/11
As I ponder whether my work with 5th graders
will survive the crazyweird to come...

Collaboration.
Will you remember this, kids?
Practice it as adults?

Accepting difference.
Will you remember this, kids?
Do it as adults?

Outrage over hate.
Will you remember this, kids?
Act on it as adults?




1/12
Rumors. Fake news. Anything that's not the real issues.

flash
heads turn
wolf advances




1/14

sunrise
please help me believe
in today



1/17

sense of urgency
every word and action must
promote harmony




1/18

today's mountain
eventually a hill
but oh the rubble



Friday, November 4, 2016

Life is Full of Pain and Glory




Life is Full of Pain and Glory

Like a single leaf
spiraling lazily down
through a china blue sky.

Like a hangnail
which, in careless irritation,
is yanked and bleeds.

Like a fragile, confused iris
blooming in October
one block from the hospital.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2016



Friday, October 7, 2016

Quite So Much




Quite So Much

If it weren't for the clouds
I wouldn't love the blue
quite so much.

If it weren't for the cold shock
of the first step into the river
I wouldn't love dry land
quite so much.

If it weren't for the surprise of bright yellow fungus
I wouldn't love dead trees
quite so much.

If it weren't for the constant chatter
and the loud enthusiasm of children
I wouldn't love silence
quite so much.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2016


Our fifth graders went to Highbanks Metropark last week for a field trip put on by the Ohio River Foundation, a group that works towards "protecting and restoring the Ohio River and its watershed." The Olentangy River, which runs through Highbanks, is a part of the Ohio River watershed. Our students took part in several activities that determined the health of the Olentangy River, and that reinforced the need to conserve our fresh water resources. This poem was inspired by our field trip.


Violet is hosting the Poetry Friday roundup this week at Violet Nesdoly | Poems.


Friday, September 16, 2016

Everyday Miracle: A Septercet




































Everyday Miracle

Watching caterpillars morph
from worm into chrysalis
never grows old. Starting small

(teeny-tiny, truth be told)
they adopt a growth mindset --
after egg, it's grow, grow, grow.

They change caterpillar clothes
as they thicken and lengthen.
Then comes the ultimate change --

undigested food is purged,
silk belt is spun, anchoring
caterpillar, who lets go

and leans into the process.
Unseen to observing eyes,
parts that were caterpillar

shuffle, shift, reorganize.
What once began as all crawl
will become fluttering flight.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2016



The Ditty of the Month challenge at Today's Little Ditty, issued by Madam Jane Yolen, was to write a septercet, a form she invented in which each verse (as many verses as you want) needs to have three lines, each with seven syllables. It can be rhymed or not. The challenge was also (I just realized) to make your septercet feature reading and/or writing. Oops. Maybe mind is about reading the natural world.


Friday, September 9, 2016

The Fifties



The Fifties

Trees feel the fifties
in their tip-top leaves --
ever so slightly not as green.

Bees feel the fifties
in their crystal wings --
buzz-uzz-uzzing sluggishly.

Runners feel the fifties
in groups of twos and threes --
comfortable in shirt-sleeves, breathing easily.

I feel the fifties
slightly differently --
cycling along...they're in my knees!


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2016




Friday, August 5, 2016

Gratitude List




Gratitude List

Praise be this morning for waking early,
tree crickets buzzing, the humid air,
the puffy clouds lined with pink first light.
Praise be my morning tea, steaming hot,
the cat underneath my feet,
the caterpillar on the sprig of dill
in a juice glass on the kitchen table.
Praise be these blueberries from Michigan,
this yogurt, thick and creamy,
from a local farm co-op. Praise be the basil,
sturdy and fragrant in the morning light,
and for the tall purple ironweed and the
goldenrod, both on the verge of blooming.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2016




When the poem Gratitude List by Laura Foley showed up in my inbox via The Writer's Almanac, I knew I wanted to use it as a mentor text and paint a picture of a midwestern morning to mirror her ocean beach morning. It was a fun exercise and a good reminder that borrowing from another writer sometimes makes my own writing not just better, but possible on a day when I'm not sure I have anything to write about!


Gratitude List

Praise be this morning for sleeping late,
the sandy sheets, the ocean air,
the midnight storm that blew its waters in.
Praise be the morning swim, mid-tide,
the clear sands underneath our feet,
the dogs who leap into the waves,
their fur, sticky with salt,
the ball we throw again and again.
Praise be the green tea with honey,
the bread we dip in finest olive oil,
the eggs we fry. Praise be the reeds,
gold and pink in the summer light,
the sand between our toes,
our swimsuits, flapping in the breeze.


by Laura Foley (used with permission of the author)


Friday, July 1, 2016

Cleaning Dandelions Out of the Iris


free image from pixabay.com


Cleaning Dandelions Out of the Iris

Satisfying snap --
trowel cuts roots below ground.
They're bound to come back.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2016





Friday, June 24, 2016

Homesick


Flickr Creative Commons Photo by SB


HOMESICK

The pears on the kitchen counter
are probably ripe by now,
and the basil in the raised bed
ready to be ground into another batch of pesto.

Perhaps the coneflowers and gayfeather have bloomed,
and certainly the morning glory vines
have locked the back gate.

But when I return, the afternoon sun will glow
through the west windows

as it always does.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2016





Friday, June 17, 2016

Friday, June 3, 2016

That Moment



That Moment When Summer Arrives, 
Whether or not the Solstice Has Occurred

The peonies are blown.
Rain knocked the petals off
the last poppy
and laid the daisies down on the lawn.
The first fireflies
sparkle the humid night.
You can smell
the grass growing.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2016



Friday, May 20, 2016

Hidden Miracles





Jack in the Pulpit:
unrecognized miracle
pokes up amongst ferns

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2016




Saturday, April 30, 2016

Jackie




Jackie

Mommy? Grandma?
Why are you crying?
Did I do something wrong?

No, Jackie. No, Punkin'.
It's not you.
We're crying for the bygones.

We're remembering Uncle Jack.
Grandpa's trumpet 
was one of the things from home that he took along

with him into the war.
The trumpet didn't come back, and neither did he.
But you're here, so Uncle Jack will live on.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2016





Friday, April 29, 2016

Papa




Papa

It seems like just yesterday
my little girl was in ruffles and a bonnet,
then serious-faced with that long, long hair.

Our Lizzy was the observer.
She worshipped Lewis,
kept Jack out of more than his share 

of trouble. She watched over Henry
like a mother hen.
She could beat me at checkers, fair and square.

Now I've given her away.
My little girl.
Take care of her, young man. Take good care.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2016




I'm going to miss this family I've invented from random photographs and scraps of my own family's history. I plan to work on giving them a more proper storyline. Or perhaps I'll just collect them into an e-book. Time will tell. It always does, it seems.

Buffy has the Poetry Friday roundup at Buffy's Blog.



Thursday, April 28, 2016

Lizzy




Lizzy

Falling in love
with a race car driver
surprised me as much as it did you.

When the children come,
he has promised
to find a new,

safer line of work.
How many grandkids?
I think you can plan on two.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2016



Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Henry




Henry

Dear Iva,
I couldn't be more sure.
But are you?

You'd give all that up for me?
For a life on this farm?
For a job at the school?

When I look at your face
in the photo you sent
I still can't believe it's true.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2016




The 2016 Progressive Poem is HERE!




It's been a little nerve-wracking to be the 27th poet to add a line to the 2016 Kidlitosphere Progressive Poem. I've peeked in on it a couple times a week since the first of the month, but I didn't want fall in love with the direction it was heading, knowing that the direction would certainly change. (And boy has it!!)

I'm glad I got a spot this year -- the schedule filled up fast! Here's who's added lines so far (and who will add after me):

2016 KIDLITOSPHERE PROGRESSIVE POEM

April
1 Laura at Writing the World for Kids
2 Joy at Joy Acey
3 Doraine at Dori Reads
4 Diane at Random Noodling

5 Penny at A Penny and Her Jots
6 Carol at Beyond LiteracyLink
7 Liz at Elizabeth Steinglass
8 Janet F. at Live Your Poem

9 Margaret at Reflections on the Teche
10 Pat at Writer on a Horse
11 Buffy at Buffy's Blog
12 Michelle at Today's Little Ditty

13 Linda at TeacherDance
14 Jone at Deo Writer
15 Matt at Radio, Rhythm & Rhyme
16 Violet at Violet Nesdoly

17 Kim at Flukeprints
18 Irene at Live Your Poem
19 Charles at Poetry Time
20 Ruth at There is No Such Thing as a Godforsaken Town

21 Jan at Bookseedstudio
22 Robyn at Life on the Deckle Edge
23 Ramona at Pleasures from the Page
24 Amy at The Poem Farm

25 Mark at Jackett Writes
26 Renee at No Water River
27 Mary Lee at Poetrepository
28 Heidi at My Juicy Little Universe

29 Sheila at Sheila Renfro
30 Donna at Mainely Write


The poem started off with some gorgeous images of birds and wishes, then the ocean and more wishes. A celebration of spring kept the spirit of the poem light in the third and fourth stanzas. In the fifth stanza, we took a short break from the earthly poem and rode Pegasus to the largest moon of Jupiter. The breeze returned with an offer for our speaker: "I give you flight!" What a gift! But the speaker suddenly gets cold feet in stanza seven, line one, at which point, Renee, in yesterday's line, "pushed her out of the plane."

Here's the poem:

A squall of hawk wings stirs the sky.
A hummingbird holds and then hies.
If I could fly, I’d choose to be
Sailing through a forest of poet-trees.

A cast of crabs engraves the sand
Delighting a child’s outstretched hand.
If I could breathe under the sea,
I’d dive, I’d dip, I’d dance with glee.

A clump of crocuses craves the sun.
Kites soar while joyful dogs run.
I sing to spring, to budding green,
to all of life – seen and unseen.

Wee whispers drift from cloud to ear
and finally reach one divining seer
who looks up from her perch and beams —
West Wind is dreaming May, it seems.

Golden wings open and gleam
as I greet the prancing team.
Gliding aside with lyrical speed,
I’d ride Pegasus to Ganymede.

To a pied pocket, the zephyr returns
blowing soft words the seer discerns
from earthbound voyage to dreamy night,
The time is now. I give you flight!

Yet I fear I am no kite or bird–
I lift! The world below me blurred
by tears of joy. I spiral high 



Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Mother




Mother

This picture haunts me.
It's as if
I sealed my fate

in a moment of silliness
prompted by the photographer.
The blind date

with the man who would be your father
was that same night.
I was blind indeed. And he didn't wait

a single minute for my good sense to return.
Almost before I realized it,
I was hitched and whisked away

to that wretched farm.
His conquest
was my doomsday.

I won't try to stop you, Iva.
Neither will I come rescue you.
It is your life to waste.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2016