(This is part of the Slice of Life Challenge over at Two Writing Teachers) We were able to sneak in a bit of freewriting in class yesterday. For about 15 minutes, the room was mostly quiet as my students worked on stories, poems, letters, comics and whatever it was that they decided to write about. My only condition for freewrite is that they are writing and they are quiet. The condition I set for myself is that I write along with them.
Yesterday, I had an image in my mind from last weekend, when some thick fog rolled into our area as the warm weather hit the cold earth. It was an eerie experience, like something out of Stephen King. My son and I noticed an old tobacco barn that had fallen down over the winter (there was a lot of that around here), and that scene of slow destruction amid thick fog was pretty amazing.
I tried to capture that in this poem.
(listen to the podcast)
Soft light flickers through
the veil of fog,
Shimmering off the old barn
and seeping into my mind.
and advertising banners announcing the sale
of tomatoes, turnips
and summertimes along the roadway
lay scattered on the ground,
a graveyard of wood and iron
The shotgun blast of rubble
instills in us a sense of fear, awe,
I lean against the weight of winter —
the remnants of snow, sleet
and falling rains —
but it’s an illusion, too,
in this cloud cover that is as empty
Spring warmth wrestles winter’s fury
and then, beneath the stillborn chaos,
a flower blooms:
slow, sturdy and strong.
Peace (in the poetry),