FOR ISAIAH
He died suddenly
after school one day.
A fifth grader
with an undiagnosed heart defect.
Every holiday
his family decorates the tree
planted in front of the school
in his memory.
In between holidays now,
the maple blooms.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2015
Carol, at Carol's Corner, will join me again this year as often as possible.
Kimberley, at iWrite in Maine, is joining me this month.
True love in the classroom.
Kay, at A Journey Through the Pages, is joining, too!
Steve, at inside the dog, is sharing his poems
in the comments at Poetrepository.
Heidi, at my juicy little universe, will join us when she can.
Linda, at TeacherDance, will join as often as she can.
Check the comments at A Year of Reading or Poetrepository for her poems.
Kevin (Kevin's Meandering Mind) is back this year,
leaving poetry trax in the comments.
Jone, at DeoWriter, is doing a "double L" challenge.
She and I are cross-poLLinating our challenges whenever possible.
What a beautiful tribute, Mary Lee. That last stanza...? Wow. How poignant, this image of life moving forward.
ReplyDeleteThank you.
When I walked out of school yesterday and looked at Isaiah's tree, and thought of his family coming over to decorate it...I thought, "That's what love looks like."
DeleteHere's mine for today. Another prose poem/mediation.
ReplyDeleteTrees and Midges
What variety. Check out that oak tree, the one you can’t get your arms around? It’s been growing right there for over a century, slowly materializing out of thin air. You could have bumped into it if you had not been looking. And so might your great grandchildren; it will be there, rooted in the same spot. Rough bark, cool shade. Yet, a swarm of midges circles up, up, up in the last flash of light before the dusk. This was their moment, their day in the sun, now nearing the end. You are beneath the notice of both tree and midge. And, you might not have noticed them either if you had not stopped right there at that moment to listen to the crickets under the leaves. So much music there is! Love is a fiddle that plays many tunes.
Solid and lasting; ephemeral and gauzy..."Love is a fiddle that plays many tunes."
DeleteSo very true.
Lovely.
Oh wow, those last lines! I am blessed by this poem today. Thank you, Mary Lee. xo
ReplyDeleteLove is a maple that blooms many tunes.
ReplyDeleteRough bark, cool shade;
A family of midges decorates the tree.
His moment is every holiday.
Yes.
DeleteYes.
Delete