Turn the page…

Cicadas don’t exist –

only for me.

They just do is all.

But the sound of them,

transports me…

I am a young girl again.

Summer days are hot

…and so sleepy..

The library is cool,

a respite from the scorching sun.

I walk determinedly

to the grown up desk

And pick up my very own

folded in half, book log.

It has neat lines

waiting to be filled,

with titles and authors,

and there are places

where the stars

will sit in time,

tiny mementos of a reading journey.

Glittering reminders that you did it!!

I go home

with an armful of books,

a Maiden’s armor

against the slow ticking

of an afternoon clock.

Folk tales and faery tales

spread wide before me,

in width and breadth and hours.

The choice is mine…

I dive in whole heartedly

Splashing and Vigorous!

As surely as into a spring fed pond.

I ripple the surface

and turn the pages,

ever deeper into the antiquity

of the telling.

And finding

my very own self

there among them.

And knowing I was, all along

No,

the cicadas do not exist only for me

Yet…

a slow hum

in the distant tree tops

Always takes me..

..far away

… to once upon a time…

****

ellie894 October 26, 2021

one step more….

Beyond the bend

Chirrup and cheep

Rustle and scritch

For each of these

and for books

My father read to me

I have a photograph

So, I know it’s so

My mother sat beside me

To the right

Let me do the reading

He cheered me

Beyond the teacher’s

“Slow down”,

mild admonishment

respectfully ignored

She kept me

In books,

picture and otherwise

Wrapped with a bow

Or beneath my pillow

It is her own hand lettering

That graces the inside covers

Name and date

Before I could do it for myself

Scratch and tussle

Flutter and fly

…always one page more…

****

ellie894 April 15, 2021

stories that might…

The light didn’t fall through the trees today.
It was gray right from the beginning and kept on from there.
A soft kind of day filled with rain that wouldn’t.
But, it kept on trying anyway.  
I read stories about snow.
How it starts as a very small nothing sort of thing and before you can say…jack rabbit jumped over the juniper…the whole of the world is white with it.  
But, there’s no snow today. Not really.  Not here.  
It wasn’t even especially cold.  
Just soft and filled with rain that wouldn’t…and stories that might…and it was enough…

****
ellie894 January 14, 2020

ten turkeys…

Today…
Ten turkeys filled the road
And stole the farmer’s truck
To get to the turkey circus 
And that isn’t any muck
One pig named Olivia
Learned a gobbling turkey call
One no name squirrel 
Chittered and chattered
As snow began to fall
Seven shoes came off
Or maybe it was more
I sort of lost count
Somewhere after four
Twelve little teapots got all steamed up
Then fell into a line 
It was messy and squiggly 
But that really was fine
Twelve smiling faces meandered so free
Down the corridor to lunch
And to munch
Then nap until three

****
ellie894 November 19, 2019

the best currency…

It rained last night

Nevertheless, I’m off to town
With a silly smile
To sit right down
And open the book
And turn the page
For my smallest friends
The tiny ones who like to giggle
And get lost in stories of pretend
I shall get paid
But not in the manner that you think
Dollars are of no use here
Instead it will be in the very best way 
That they know how
It’s hugs, you know
The currency that never fails
It cannot be lost or stolen
As the more you give
The more you have
Isn’t it lovely 
To fill your days 
With things that aren’t worth saving
But better off given away…

suzanne ❤️

****
ellie894 October 15, 2019


a little bird…

A little bird flew into the house

Right through the open door

Straight up to the bookshelf

And not to the floor

I do so hope he found

Whatever he was looking for

****

ellie894 June 8, 2019

treasured friends…

Across the softly lit room

The tree still sparkling of Christmas

Stands guard over sturdy shelves

Alive with paper possibility.

There, on the left are picture filled journeys,

So many grand adventures from my childhood.

Next simmer the cooking adventures

Precious recipes

Once belonging to my mother,

Now mine to savor and to share.

Art and artists anchor this small library

They are easy to reach for

Placed for their hefty weight,

Creative volumes should be mighty,

Don’t you think…

Stories next,

Shelves of words carefully sorted and chosen

To enchant with a tale well told…

They make me laugh

They let me weep

Some I could recite by heart

Those rest content among others not yet opened,

Pages and pages waiting to be turned…

A few are specially bound and rather fragile, tucked up so high

And to the right for safekeeping,

I don’t pull those often,

But they are there

When my heart needs the solace

Which they always and so gently offer,

A whole sweet shelf

Overflows with grace and hope,

Philosophy of the ages

Gifted to me by a mentor I will never meet,

Poetry whispers to my heart just here

A stream of loving respite in this vast world…

While flora blossom just there

In a garden sanctuary of precious stones

And scented glories….

Each treasure is at home in its place,

How happy I am to be quietly among them,

There is no greater gift

Than the bounty and blessing

Of dear dear friends…

Thank you all…

May you have joy and peace in all your days..

suzanne ❤️

****

ellie894 December 31, 2018

wordy wednesday…

Wednesday

Is anything but

Wordless

For me

In fact

It’s the wordiest

Morning

Of my whole week

Today was no exception…

Music

Floated up the stairs

And down the hall

To Mabel’s room

One, two, three

Swish, two, three

Swirl, two, three…

As I began to read aloud

The story so easily

Waltzed

Through me…

Soon

I held the book

With my left hand

While my right

Kept graceful three quarter time

In a drifting upward sway

To the words…

Little Emilio

No farther away

Than a footstep

Gazed in wonder

At the magic

Of my fingers

As they danced

Mabel’s story

To sweet musical life…

All at once

He lifted his own

Tiny hands

In front of him

And began to dance

A gentle waltz

Along with me…

One, two, three

Swish, two, three

Swirl, two, three…

The story ended

And our hands

Returned to our laps…

But I shall

Always smile

As I recall

Little Emilio

And his first

Magical waltz…

I love wordy Wednesday…

****

ellie894 April 2018

Mabel Dancing by Amy Hest read at Wednesday storytime