Imagine the Possibilities

One day earlier this week I rose quite early. In the pre-dawn hours, even the dog didn’t stir. I made my way downstairs, grabbed a coat, and walked into the backyard, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Leonid meteor shower. Even though the skies were clear, I knew the chances of catching sight of a meteor this time around were not great. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

As I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, I noticed how different my backyard felt. I was alone, yet not alone. The mysteries of nature surrounded me. I listened for new sounds, noticed the shapes of shadows, and marveled at the patterns of stars, wishing I could name more than just the very familiar.

I didn’t see a shooting star that morning, but somehow I felt fulfilled from the experience. Instead of going back to bed, I picked up Devotions by Mary Oliver and read these words from “The Book of Time”:

“…I am standing by the open door.
And now I am stepping down onto the grass.

I am touching a few leaves.
I am noticing the way the yellow butterflies
move together, in a twinkling cloud, over the field.

And I am thinking: maybe just looking and listening
is the real work.

Maybe the world, without us,
is the real poem.”

My poem is in response to Mary Oliver, whose words never cease to inspire.

In Search of a Shooting Star
by Rose Cappelli

Walking outside,
crisp, cool air
kisses my cheek.

Looking up,
a sprinkling of twinkling stars
fills the sky.

Listening in solitude,
the tentative tapping of squirrels
breaks the silence.

I wait,
watch,
wish.

And that is enough.

On this magical morning,
the world is a poem.
No shooting star needed.

Carol has the Poetry Round Up this week at Beyond Literacy Link. Be sure to stop by for a dazzling array of poetry, photos, and art in her Bedecked in Autumn Gallery Walk. You won’t be disappointed!

So even though I knew A MONTH AGO that I wanted to join in with a word play poem on the last Friday in October, I didn’t start working on it until this week. But it was a lot of fun and got me thinking outside the box. I’m not sure why I picked “wave.” Maybe because we’ve had to do a bit of distant waving during the pandemic. Wave is also a word that holds several meanings. I explored a couple – a hand wave and an ocean wave, but it always came back to movement.

WAVE

Wave is a moving word,
a to-and-fro,
ebb-and-flow word.
It can be a happy hello,
or a sad, slow-to-let-go word.
WAVE smells of the salty sea.
Sometimes it tastes of tears.
It can shout or be silent,
ripple or flutter,
but it is never still.
A wave waits at the bottom of the ocean,
or hides in the hand of a baby,
a mother,
a friend.
Wave is a moving word—
come join in its dance.

Wondering what Poetry Friday is? Check it out here. If you want to learn more about Word Play poems, check out today’s post from Laura Purdie Salas.

Linda has the roundup at Teacher Dance, so head on over for some Halloween and word play fun.