Sometimes I write poetry. This is a favorite poem of mine. This particular poem was created for a class while studying for my masters in arts integration.
Little Cedar Berry Farm
when freckled, picked berries from a bush
two of them, stationed on paralleled rows
between the full hedges, soft sweet and lush.
Black pups swooned near their necks and birds did crow.
Two sweet children each with a waffled tray
Practiced their skills, dyed their digits to red,
blew back their bangs and dredged aprons of lead.
Around the farm yard bench, the mother bays;
and to all the warm dusk, flirts fearless to be fed
moans for our tawny hands and sweaty heads.
Twelve full quarts they picked. Some berries they ate
then sifted in green boxes, one by one and jostled the rosy nipples of fruit.
Beyond the tall grasses, though nearer the sun
I sat and watched them, yearning to be young.
Motherhood is Grand
This is a photo of me when I was a young mother with our two darling daughters. Now I’m a grandma of three perfect grandchildren. My oldest daughter on the right is turning forty years old in September.
Are you a drama teacher? This blog post might interest you: A Baker’s Dozen of Teaching Ideas for the Frazzled Drama Teacher
or you are considering teaching playwriting to our students? Check out-–A Playwriting Unit or How to Help Your Students Feel Seen