Poem: 12 March

I’ve been writing a poem a day using Ted Kooser’s Winter Morning Walks as a mentor. This is connected to an experiment to use my daily life as a source for regular writing. Here’s an image, in poetry form, from this morning.

I’m not sure yet how I’ll use this practice for my teaching, but, I suppose, to the extent that the teacher’s soul is important to the teaching, maybe I’m already using it.

12 March
6:50 AM. Clearing skies. North wind.

Corn stubble soldiers
guard the hilltop from
the retreating snow. Rows
march downward growing
taller, bolder with each victory.
The high ground, reclaimed overnight,
shows dark, while in the valleys,
still deep with blizzard drifts,
winter gathers, holds firm.

–Steve Peterson

Poetry and Photos — An Icicle Hangs (#WalkMyWorld)

With the cold and snow we’ve had some days off school lately, which means that I have a bit more time to write and take some photographs.  Here’s a couple photos from yesterday’s AM trip to gather wood for the wood stove and ash pail emptying.

I’m happy to be trying to tell some kind of story about my daily world for the #WalkMyWorld project. It’s been fun to see what others do and it’s been great to make it one of my “jobs” to slow down enough to see where I’m placing my feet on this journey. On a related note, I’ve also taken a tentative step into the wonderful world that is the National Writing Project iAnthology. So far, that has extended only as far as the Photo Fridays Challenge.

Here are some photos from yesterday morning. The poem these images inspired follows them.

This strange structure was formed by sheets of snow sliding partway off the roof, then refreezing and melting over a series of very cold, but sunny, days.

This strange structure was formed by sheets of snow sliding partway off the roof, then refreezing and melting over a series of very cold, but sunny, days.

I was struck by how the light tails down the length of the icicle far into the darkness.

I was struck by how the light tails down the length of the icicle far into the darkness.

 

An Icicle Hangs

An icicle hangs from the eaves,
a witness this silent morning
to the amber dawn
gathered in its glassy surface,
a luminescent vessel contains
the tentative warmth
of this new day.

What luck to have glanced

from the near chore
of gathering firewood
to catch amidst the far dark
this flash of liquid light,
frozen for a moment,
caught between solid
earth and an opening sky.

–Steve Peterson, 2014

 

 

#walkmyworld — Sunrise from the Hill

 

Yesterday, the cold was an eagle’s beak, the wind it’s talons. My cheeks? My nose? The liver of Prometheus. But even this sharpness didn’t stop the sun from rising over the hill across the valley during the morning dog walk, hills that are my Stonehenge for the changing seasons. Inexorably the light returns.

For more about the #walkmyworld project, check out this link at NWP Digital Is. I’m excited to give it a try.