Enough

 

quanto basta

as much as you need

spring garden

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Shade

suddenly, there's shade

branches with buds subitize

shadows gain substance

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

 

Seasons

old trees make new leaves

bark is rough but roots are strong

spring becomes summer

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

 

Home

 

When will we decide

to stop squandering our home?
We act like there's time.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Now

ask some hard questions

spotlight inequalities

then make good trouble

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

 

And So?

 

white privilege abounds

black lives matter on yard signs

and I write haiku

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Choices

 

we teach the wrong things:

task completion, not passion

test taking, not joy

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

We've got seven weeks left, and I'm focusing as much as possible on passion and joy. Our newest fun: about 1/4 of the class is learning a new language using the DuoLingo app. 

Worn

 

this kitchen table

we are aging together

worn at the edges

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Mourning

 

after the cold snap

glorious magnolias

wear brown in mourning

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Housekeeping

 

illumination

sun shines through dirty windows

with no prejudice

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Chorus

 

singing in the dark

first one voice, then a chorus

early morning birds

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Moon

 

one slice of peach left

in a wide indigo bowl

early morning sky

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Together

 

nervous, excited

first day at school...in April

together at last

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Virginia bluebells

 

Virginia bluebells

at first neither blue nor bells

spring ephemeral

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Trillium

sessile trillium

blooms at the base of our oak

formerly forest

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Seeds

 

 

impulse purchase

packets of zinnia seeds

still too early

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Winter

 

 

razor blade north wind

winter is not quite over

wear wool once more

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Dawn

 

dark, darker, darkest

those moments just before dawn

wren sings from the fence

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

#haikudiary for National Poetry Month 2021: forecast

maple trees blushing

forsythia in full joy

forecast calls for snow

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Sleigh Ride

picture via wikimedia commons: Sleigh Ride by Winslow Homer

SLEIGH RIDE

shhh
say the runners
sliding through the snow

smack
say the reigns
asking horse to go

ching ching
say the bells
on the harness and the sleigh

flap flap
say the wings
of the crows that show the way

peekaboo
say moon and clouds
thanks for coming out to play


© Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Momentum

photo via Unsplash

Momentum

When you take your foot off the gas pedal

and roll to a stop in front of your house.

When you stop pumping your legs on the swing

and enjoy the ever-shortening trips back and forth.

When you stand still on your skates and just roll

feeling every pebble and sidewalk crack under your wheels.

When you sit at your desk and stare at the ceiling

and let go of the task at hand.

When you know there is a mountain of work to be done

and you deliberately choose not to do it.

Since when did loss of momentum

become equated with some kind of failure?

Today I will reclaim loss of momentum

as a form of pleasure.

I will savor the slow down and the pull back

the drifting and the regathering of strength so I can begin again

later.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021 (draft)

Perspective

 

 

photo via Unsplash

Perspective

All my life you've been a dipper.

Just this morning, though,

as I wondered whether you were telling me

to pour out

or scoop up

you changed into a giraffe

your long curved neck

reaching across galaxies

so you could nibble on the juicy gibbous moon.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Remote Teaching

 

photo via Unsplash

Each day

I thread the needle of my heart

and stitch together

my quilt-square students

into a tapestry

of joy

and learning.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021

Silence

 

image via Unsplash

Your silence will not protect you. -- Audre Lorde

Talking openly with your

students about race is necessary. Silence

is fear, and fear will

keep you frozen. You will not

grow without risk, and neither will they. You can't protect

them from hard truths, so invite them to explore and learn along with you.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021 (draft)

Things I Didn't Know I Loved

 The poem of the day today from Poets.org is Day 29 (2020) by Jamila Woods. Her poem was inspired by Things I Didn't Know I Loved by Nazim Hikmet.

My poem-draft is inspired by both of them.

image via Unsplash

Things I Didn't Know I Loved

it's January 1st 2021

i'm sitting at the kitchen table

my hands are cold

but the space heater warms my feet

i never knew i liked

being warm and cold at the same time

it's like

winter lap swimming

the steamy heat of the natatorium

the shocking cold of the water

the satisfaction of having swum

it's also like sweet and salty

i've always known i liked

sweet and salty

pancakes with bacon

chocolate pretzels

icing on crackers

it's nothing like clutter and order

or is it

i used to hate the clutter in my mother's house

my apartment was clean and empty

i was young

now i'm sitting at the kitchen table

my hands are cold

i'm crowded by books lists mugs 

pencil case glasses case stacks of mail

pens in a cup headphones cat toys and

only the words on this page

have any semblance of order

at least my feet are warm

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021 (draft)

Wistful

 

photo via Unsplash

Wistful

We live at the corner of Lincoln and Forest.

What I wouldn't give to stand here

and turn the dial of time backward,

rewind the threads of now

onto the spool of eternity,

pavement evaporating,

divisive moments in human history blurring, retreating, disappearing

as the beech-oak-hickory canopy

closes in

concealing a sky that has never known contrails.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020 (draft)

Six Weeks One Summer

"Finding Your Way" by Victoria Nessen

 SIX WEEKS ONE SUMMER

1985
After the first job,
before the second degree.
Between.

Blue Highways
South -- tobacco fields
West -- Navajo Nation
North -- regal mountains

Soundtrack
box of cassette tapes
meadowlark on a fencepost
AM radio

Souvenirs
single finger wave
small town hospitality
sense of direction

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

My poetry "podcast" about this poem is here.

Meander

 

"Finding Your Way" by Victoria Nessen

MEANDER (an “In One Word” poem)

Amend
your dream
of reaching that destination. Rename
this aspiration “journey.” Endear
yourself to this dare.
When you find yourself near
fulfillment, read
the landscape, know what you need,
veer toward a new end.

Wandering is a pleasure earned.
Ramble your amen.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Autumn Acrostic

a tree in our neighborhood

 

At first, it goes

Unnoticed.

Then it is

Undeniable. Almost like

Magic, summer is gone.

No more shorts and swimsuits.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020 (with input from students on the last line)

Puff of Wish -- a Nonet

Puff
of wish,
globe of stars,
summer snowflake,
granny in the grass.
Some say you are a weed,
but to me you are magic.
Even though I blow you to bits,
you never hold a grudge -- you spread joy.


Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

(Hat tip to Amy LV for the inspiration for the line "granny in the grass.")