I love poetry. When I taught third grade, poetry was a big thing in my classroom. Every week my students would get a new poem for their Poetry Folder, which they would have to practice reading out loud to someone in their household each night. What I was trying to teach my students was a fluency skill called prosody, which is being able to use your voice to give meaning to the written word through intonation, rhythm, and emphasis. Have you ever struggled to understand the written word, such as perhaps in a Shakespeare play, and then upon seeing it acted out you completely understood the words? That’s the power of prosody.
On Fridays the students would perform the poem for their classmates, and the more shy ones were able to choose the “perform with a partner” option. In the month of April we would have Poetry Month, during which the students practiced writing different forms of poetry. Poetry Month culminated in an event called Poetry Cafe. Students would choose two poems to perform, either alone or with a partner. The poems could be written by themselves, a poem we worked on during the year, or some other poem they found in a book. I staged it like a beatnik coffee house of the 1950’s – the students wore black t-shirts and sunglasses, and the audience was encouraged to snap their fingers instead of clapping. There were, of course, refreshments afterwards. What an absolute blast!
After I left teaching to pursue a less stressful job option (haha!), poetry kind of dropped out of my life for a few years. Then about three years ago, my brother Richard, out of the blue, sent me the collection of Mary Oliver poems called “Devotions.” Mary Oliver is the poet who wrote the poem “The Summer Day” which includes the famous phrase, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” I savored the book from cover to cover. I don’t pray these days, but Mary Oliver’s poetry feels the way the best prayer should – it elevates my spirit, gives me hope, and reminds me that both all of us and none of us is alone.
When I mulled over the writing of this post over the last couple of days, I knew that I wanted to share a poem with you. The problem is that I have so many favorites! Then my friend Daniel, in his blog Dawn Reader, shared this post about the poem “Summer Kitchen” by Donald Hall. The poem describes a prosaic evening shared between a man and a woman – in the words of the poem they “ate, and talked, and went to bed. And slept” – then ends by saying, “It was a miracle.”
Because isn’t every day truly a miracle?
I told Daniel that the vibe of “Summer Kitchen” reminded me of another poem that I love, and that I was going to steal his idea and share that poem here. Here it is:
Have a wonderful weekend, everyone. I’ll see you back here soon.
Michelle xoxo
P.S. This is my 50th blog post – which amazes me.
