Onyx eyes, black beads,
glisten with wishes,
please take the gift,
toss gently, I’ll retrieve.
It’s only time between us;
you are almost all I’ve known of love,
though you may grieve
for what has been before;
I am now, and while I’m still small,
you’re all I want and need.
With time between us,
your love for me will grow.
Day by day,
week by week,
month by month,
year by year,
Perpetual motion
marks our lives,
cradle to grave.
Recto, verso,
each a new start
toward the inevitable,
inexorable,
final page.
See the twisting silence
weaving between them;
pursed lips, downcast eyes,
See their knot tighten
further together, closer apart.
Recursive learning
circles of transformation in
Relation
Rigorous
Reaching to better teaching.
.
.
a little Masters reflection today.
Art is artificial
when our artifacts
leave factual for artless artifice.
Draw artful parts;
articulate the artful into artillery
throbbing through the arteries:
bum, bum, bum.
Be the genuine article,
artisan.
Be
art.
.
.
(Reading John Dewey’s Art as Experience today. My head might explode.)
It is dark here.
We have dug a den,
a hole to hide in.
Safe, secure, one entrance to guard
with snarling, snapping lunges.
Beyond the border we guard,
light illuminates.
We squint at silhouettes,
afraid of what lies behind.
The dark we know,
but light lures.
There are worlds beyond your doors
and opportunities reaching out to you.
“Future” is such a big word,
and so is “college” if no one has been before.
But you have just as much right
to take those chances, as any one else.
Don’t doubt the power of your ability.
If you choose to do it,
are willing to put in the work,
you can do it:
break down stereotypes,
forge new ground,
accomplish something beyond
what judgmental people
think is all you can be.
What’s your dream? Fight for it.
Spinning circles
mother
daughter mother
daughter
father
son father
son.
.
Apples falling
from apple trees
.
Same old punches
Same old stories
Same old shouts
Same old glories
.
Grandmothers,
mothers, daughters
grandfathers,
fathers, sons
.
No one steps out of the centrifuge
Spinning in
generations.
When he apologized
she thought
This time it will be better
but
“I’m sorry,”
never seems to mean,
“I won’t do it again.”
Little black nose
Pink panting tongue
Sparkling black eyes
Two paws on my leg
invitations to puppy fun.
Shawn L. Bird 