How much of the stuff that they make you teach us
Do you really want to teach? He asked
What are you talking about? I reply.
I LOVE this stuff!
We’re passionate about our subject,
glory in the possibilities,
long to share wisdom!
Do you know how many years I studied this stuff?
I adore it all!
Oh,
how wonderful when we connect students to our subject
so they are empowered by it, too.
In times of fear and panic,
Let us be a force of calm.
Let those who are trembling,
find us safe to lean upon.
May we be the voice of reason.
May we comfort the oppressed.
May we show our compassion
to those who’re most distressed.
.
.
Free for use in Rotary Clubs. Please credit Shawn Bird of Shuswap Rotary (5060 BC Canada) when you use it, and leave a note in the comments below so folks know where it’s been used. Thanks.
She wakes to the empty house
searching room by room for traces.
Has he gone?
But surely before such a journey
there would some formal leave taking?
A kiss?
A note?
He slipped away without a word,
and she is left bereft,
wondering why he finds it so easy to leave her,
wondering if she’s been devalued like Greek currency
or Bre-X stock.
No gold to mine after all.
Every couple crafts their own normal.
What’s familiar is what’s all right,
except when it’s not.
Being alone
Being lonely
There will always be too many cracks for
that broken pot to hold water;
it’s fine for bread,
though you
can’t live on bread alone.
Traces of something else,
gold veins of nourishment
are drawn with gestures
too easily forgotten,
so driving away is as simple a turning the key,
not as complicated as farewell.
It walks like a duck
And talks like a duck
except
when it
woofs
like a retriever
Sometime Occam fails to slice
the correct solution with his razor.
Geese trying a new vocabulary
fly in W formation
I wonder
what will winter wind
waft or wallop webbed wonders
wandering west and south along waterways?
She inhales a scent of memory
Old sweater that remembers the body it enfolded
Releasing comforting peace amid grief.
.
.
Thinking of a character in a short story I’ve been crafting, today.
A phrase here
A phrase there
peppered in conversation
on the page of a book
or a passing bus ad
Catches
in the fertile soil of imagination
A story roots
and grows
releases seeds of its own.
Down the hall
voices–
murmurs words of whispered
conversations
I can’t quite hear.
The house is supposed to be
empty,
so I stalk the sound
searching for chatty intruders
their sibilant sussurance
strangely assured for the late hour
and their uninvited status.
In the bathroom,
it comes clear:
the toilet’s talking
to itself.
The school was a haven,
if not used for the purpose intended.
Safety is more important than education,
but eventually offering safety,
is less important than throwing you through paper hoops.
Don’t they see you’re on fire?
Anticipation building.
Preparations made.
At the back of the mind
Really?
Surely there will come disappointment
instead of you?
Shawn L. Bird 