There's Really No Other Option

There's Really No Other Option

It's a small boat.
You're alone in a storm.
The sea is rough.
A gust of wind takes your sail.
The boat spins and lurches.
It threatens to swamp.
You scream into the dark night.
The sky absorbs your anger, despair, frustration.

Then you pick up the oars,
and you row.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Be Prepared

no Swiss Army Knife

adequately prepares you

for a broken heart

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

I opened my Everyday Offerings book after I heard the announcement from Governor DeWine that our schools would be closed for the remainder of the year. It wouldn't have mattered if I had seen this before I heard the announcement. I knew it was coming. I was not prepared.

Generosity

Generosity

Give what you can.
Even if you have
No cash to spare, your giving makes a difference.
Every card or "thank you" or piece of art
Reminds those who are working so hard to keep
Our world running and our citizens
Safe and healthy, that we acknowledge their
Invaluable contribution.
Today, what will
You give?


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Contact Tracing

Contact Tracing

shy handshake
pat on the back
ponytail tug
hand-over-hand cursive
fist bump
high five
side hug

wave goodbye through the window of the bus
wave hello through the computer screen

contact secure
heart to heart


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Dandelions

Dandelions

Yellow stars
in a sky of green
you shine
but never twinkle.

Dots of happiness
splattered on the lawn
you're a freckle, a dimple,
a wink.

Golden coin
on green bank
you share your wealth
freely.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Haiku Diary for April 15

Haiku Diary for April 15

I wake up whiney

the sameness of every day

I'm on my last nerve

exercise, shower

a mug of hot tea, breakfast

sun peeks through the trees

my heart pumps, blood flows

lungs reliably inflate

some sameness is good

going to work means

down the hall into office

alone/together

Google Meet is fine

but like all the rest of life

you have to show up

food delivery

a small thing for us to do

makes a big difference

lunchtime luxury

listen to a podcast

nurture my spirit

hours and hours of screens

my brain is totally fried

the cure is ice cream

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Keeping a haiku diary is one of the challenges from Jarrett Lerner.

Ode to My Hardboiled Egg

Ode to My Hardboiled Egg

You came into this world ready
to be whatever was needed from you --

glue, to hold together a cake,
glaze, to make a pastry shine,
shell, to become a work of art,
sustenance, to give my body the strength

to do whatever the world needs from me.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

We Are In This Together

We Are In This Together

When, in the human history of the
Earth, have

All the people --
Regardless of continent or nation -- shared the same
Experience? No one is

Immune from the daily
News of infection and death.

Turn on the media and you'll
Hear "furlough," "recession," "economy."
Incredible to see crops of tulips and onions
Sitting in fields, rotting.

Turn off the media and head
Outside. Nature will fill you with
Gratitude. Our
Earth -- spinning out days, circling out seasons --
Tells us change is inevitable,
Have hope, share wisdom, take care of
Each life.
Remember: we are in this together.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Good News From Across the Pond

Good News From Across the Pond

in the village of

Ribbesbüttel, Germany

the storks have come back

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

It Never Grows Old

It Never Grows Old

Redbud
blooms burst from bark,
fleck the tree with color,
then open into a haze of
purple.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Living is a Form of Not Being Sure

Living is a form of not being sure, 

not knowing what next or how.

The moment you know how, you begin to die a little.

The artist never entirely knows.

We guess.

We may be wrong, 

but we take leap after leap into the dark.

--Agnes de Mille

Living is a Form of Not Being Sure

There are all kinds of dark.

You close your eyes in fear, exhaustion, or prayer

and dark is there.

The sun sets, the clouds roll in, you step into shade

and dark is there.

Your mind fills with unmarked roads, closed doors, gaping chasms

and dark is there.

There are all kinds of light.

You open your eyes in hope, anticipation, or gratitude

and light is there.

The sun rises, the clouds roll on, you step into sunshine

and light is there.

Your mind takes leap after leap into the dark, guessing, risking

and light is always there.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020 (with help from Agnes de Mille)

Now, More Than Ever

Now, More Than Ever

Breathe
in hope,
then exhale
your gratitude.
Remember these truths:
students over standards,
patience over procedures,
compassion over compliance,
care over content, and grace over
gimmicks. We must humanize our teaching.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020


This poem is an etheree.  It is also a found poem, comprised of bits of a post I read on the Nextdoor app, and this tweet by Shana V. White:

Unbounded

unbounded by walls

my classroom fits on my lap

hello front porch

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

This Is Just To Say

This Is Just To Say

I am not reading
the books
that patiently wait
on my shelves

and which
I should probably
have read
by now

Forgive me
I will read again
someday
maybe today


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020


My mentor texts for this poem are William Carlos Williams and Kate Messner.

When I Stepped Outside for My Early Morning Walk

When I Stepped Outside for My Early Morning Walk

I was met by the moon,
full and bright, hanging low.
Good morning, Moon, I said.
What do you know?
And Moon said, Glow.

Few will notice
fewer will care.
All the more reason to always be there
and glow.

Waxing is joyous
waning is real.
Whether a sliver or the whole wheel,
you glow.

Find some light
get in its way
reflect that light with beam or ray
and glow.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

My Hands

My Hands

wrinkled cracked and dry

these clean clean clean clean clean hands

my gift to the world

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

This poem was inspired by Amy Ludwig VanDerwater's Sharing our Notebooks video.

On My Walk

On My Walk

On my walk
around the block
what do I see?
I see a teddy bear
looking at me!

As we go
I look below
and what do I see?
I see chalk art
looking at me!

Walk some more
and on the door
what do I see?
I see a rainbow
looking at me!

Come back home
where we're alone.
What do I see?
A hopeful heart
is looking out for me.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

My Joy

My Joy

I see
you on my screen.
Hear your voice, check your work.
But I miss the reality
of you.

Your face --
pixilated --
so close, and yet so far.
No matter the distance, you are
my joy.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020


This poem is a pair of cinquains. They were written in response to Liz Garton Scanlon's prompt.

Gratitude

Gratitude

I
give thanks
for the clouds.
Yes, the same ones
that spoiled your picnic,
that rained on your parade,
that flooded the soccer field.
I am thankful for clouds because
without them there'd be no rainbows, and
behind them there will always be blue skies.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020


This poem is an etheree, written with gratitude to Liz Garton Scanlon for her poetry prompts.

National Poetry Month 2020: The Flipside

The Flipside

Your fear stings like a fresh paper cut.

The flipside is brave determination to never give up.

The changes are rollercoaster fast -- disorienting, dizzying.

The flipside is the steady predictable approach of Spring.

Our connection is like the two sides of a coin:

the flipside says, whether we are together or apart, we are joined.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Remember That Time When

photo via Geoffrey Franklin on Flickr

Remember That Time When

Remember that time
when we played
long distance cribbage?

You, in California,
me, in Colorado.
We sent cards

back and forth
in the mail.
I can't recall

how to play,
not to mention
how or why

we chose this
absurdly random method
for staying connected.

Maybe that's it --
the big takeaway --
against all odds,

connect.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Remember That Time When

Remember That Time When

Remember that time when
I had breast cancer?
I do. Every day.

I am the one
in "one in five"
of breast cancer survivors

who had lymph nodes
removed from their armpit
and now have lymphedema:

"chronic painless swelling
in the arm." Chronic? Yes.
Painless? Not so much.

Please consider the pain
of the compression sleeve
all day, and then

the other compression "garment"
all night. And yet,
because of this expensive

(and I mean expensive)
"lingerie," I am constantly
reminded: I am alive.

I am still alive
twenty-two arm-swollen
years later. Alive, and

grateful.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Election Security

via Unsplash

"Who will stop the people who want to cheat?" 

-- Tabatha Yeatts

Your Vote Only Counts If It’s Counted (A Nonet)

Your
ballot:
analog,
not digital,
not ephemeral.
In your hand. Palpable.
A vote that will be counted.
An actual piece of paper
holding officials responsible.

© 2020 Mary Lee Hahn

New Beginnings

Unsplash photo via Yann Allegre

New Beginnings

The water is cold. Give yourself the grace
to flounder until you find your flow.

Do your best. It's not a race.
The water is cold. Give yourself the grace
to choose your own rhythm, your own pace.
There is no right or wrong tempo.

The water is cold. Give yourself the grace
to flounder until you find your flow.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020



This poem is a triolet. The rhyme scheme is ABaAabAB.

Wildfire

Unsplash photo by Benjamin Lizardo

WILDFIRE

It's hot.
It's dry.
A spark:
a fire.

A flame
a burn
a blaze:
a pyre.

It threatens,
spreads,
consumes,
gets hotter.

The only thing
it fears
is
water.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2019

You Just Don't Get It

Unsplash photo by Torsten Dederichs

You Just Don't Get It

Befuddled and muddled
your noggin's confused

puzzled and troubled
you're coming unglued

mixed up and perplexed
you've been aggravated

your head is unscrewed, you're
addlepated.


©Mary Lee Hahn



This poem is a Definito, "a free verse poem of 8-12 lines (aimed at readers 8-12 years old) that highlights wordplay as it demonstrates the meaning of a less common word, which always ends the poem." (Hmm...I seem to have missed the bit about "free verse." Oh, well. We'll write off my rhymes as meeting the "wordplay" requirement. What good is a rule if it's not bent now and then?) I chose "addlepated" because it was the word of the day for July 29 on my Merriam Webster dictionary app. And it's fun to say, even if it's NOT fun to feel that way!

Found Haiku -- On a More Hopeful Note

Unsplash photo by Andre Hunter

To change the world, you

must start out by loving it.

Don’t forget to dance.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2019

Found in Garrison Keillor's column "The pleasure of running into Stan on Sunday,"
http://www.garrisonkeillor.com/running-into-stan-on-sunday/

This haiku and the one from yesterday were written in response to Linda Mitchell's challenge on Today's Little Ditty. It's pretty addictive.

Found Haiku

something was missing

where had all those insects gone

a feeling of loss

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2019

Image and words found in this article: "The Insect Apocalypse is Here: What Does it Mean for the Rest of Life on Earth?" by Brooke Jarvis, November 27, 2018

The Choice is Yours

Before

After

Detail

Before

After

Detail

The Choice is Yours

There will always be fences
there will always be walls
keeping out, keeping in
dividing
hiding.

And there will always be beauty
there will always be art
reaching out, seeking within
exciting
inviting.


(draft)
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2019

Swallowtail

“Theology is not only about understanding the world; it is about mending the world”
-- Miroslav Volf


Started by a squabble between goddesses over the Golden Apple, the Trojan
War is a complicated mess of jealousy and political intrigue.
And did it really happen, or is it just a conglomeration of stories passed down?
Let’s not haggle about the details.
Look instead at this caterpillar on the dill. A gentle poke reveals its
Osmeterium, a repugnatorial organ that jumps out like a snake to startle predators.
Watch as its jaws reduce the shoot to a skeleton.
This common caterpillar will become
A butterfly named for Polyxena, youngest daughter of King Priam of Troy.
Ironic metaphor for beauty that comes from strife, or fluttering reminder:
Love for even the smallest miracle of life is the cure we must aim for?


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2019