What do you do when your friends call on you To suggest something fun and new? Do you say “no way” or “not today”? Do you think the problem through? Are you the man that comes up with the plan? The woman whose middle name is “fun”? I wouldn’t know because I need to go; My tendency is to run.
Maybe You Just Can’t
It’s not acceptable in this can-do world To sometimes say “I can’t.” You must be lazy, unmotivated; Your contributions scant. But who’s to judge the state your in; Overburdened, sick, a quirk. There may be a day, a week, a month, When can-do just won’t work.
A Fallen Leader
It all starts with a vigorous walk in the woods. An opportunity to stretch my legs and get my heart and lungs pumping after a prolonged period of sedentary isolation. I divert from my usual route (a wide, moderately traveled path) and follow a narrow animal trail along the creek. The diversion helps get me out of my head. I immerse myself in nature, inhaling the scent of damp earth and admiring the early spring wildflowers that dot the landscape.
It must have been fairly late when I broke free from my tomb, as the darkness now descends quickly. I know my way around these woods and have no difficulty making my way back to the wide path. As I emerge from the animal trail, I intend to take the left turn that will lead me back to the security of my prison, but to the right there is firelight and the sound of laughter. I know it is them. My instinct is to flee as I always do. My feet, however, appear to have a mind of their own.
I walk toward the firelight. Of course they know I am coming. The banter and laughter continue, but there is an underlying anticipatory tone. I cautiously make my way to the clearing and stand among them. The communication ebbs as eyes fall upon me. It has been a long time since I have stood in their presence. I know I am a pathetic sight. I, having once been their leader.
We had flown together, disbursing our magic among the unfortunate. A thankless job, I grew tired and weary and could lead no more. I withdrew from the fairies, despite their efforts to console me. I isolated myself in the woods; my wings lying limp. I have no desire to reclaim my position, but I miss my family and the loneliness weighs me down. Do I dare ask their forgiveness? They are waiting.
A Seed
A seed is a most unpredictable thing; dead or dormant or ready to spring. Yet no good seed will fully sprout in a toxic environment, inside or out.
In The Shadows
I look into the shadows And expect there to emerge a form; Something solid and substantial, But there is only blackness. A fleeting glimpse from the corner of my eye; I quickly turn my head, To catch the presence I know is there, But all I see is empty space. Lying in bed in quiet stillness, An unfamiliar voice whispers in my ear; My eyes fly open, And I look around an empty room. But there are shadows in the corners. Is anybody there? I look into the shadows, But there is only blackness.
A Mother’s Love
When did you become a man? Was it the day you decided to walk yourself to class? Leaving your mother behind, as you, still so small, took the long walk down the school corridor. Was it when you began to explore nature? Navigating the woods; catching critters in the creek. Was it when you discovered extreme sports? Performing stunts with your bike; free running over rooftops. Was it when your friends became your tribe? They, knowing your daily story, while I could only catch glimpses. Was it when you started to drive? Finding a passion for cars. Was it when you met your girlfriend? Spending every free moment in her company. Was it when you started working? Discovering a bit of financial freedom. Was it when you left home? Running an independent household. Was it when you became a dad? Producing a magnificent child of your own. When did you become a man? I just don’t know. As I look at the wonderful man standing before me, I only see my child.
When It’s There
When it’s there, it’s there. It clicks into place, A piece of a puzzle, Connecting a whole. A cognizant moment; An inexplicable bond; A strong attraction; An insistent pull. It cannot be forced; It cannot be avoided; It just happens, And you know it is there.
Imagination
A little imagination can go a long way; We find it in stories and use it in play. A leap in the air and with wings we do fly; We soar over treetops and swoop through the sky. A dive underwater sprouts fins on our backs; We swim past the mermaids; avoid shark attacks. A walk in the forest no longer ourselves, As we turn into fairies or dragons or elves. But imagination is not just for fantasy; As it turns us into the best we can be.
Me In The Tree
My feet are planted firmly on the ground, As my toes drive deep into the damp earth; A sturdy foundation for my erect torso. Standing tall, my arms spread wide; My fingers stretch toward the sky sprouting leaves. My eyes stare as two woodpecker holes. I wait and I watch. For hundreds of years, I drop seeds from my branches; Little seedlings sprout from the ground. My large frame protects them from the weather, But the shadow from my canopy blocks the light, And my seedlings fall back to earth. I watch and I mourn. Night and day, Animals climb over me. They eat from my branches and chew on my bark. They dig out the bugs that bore holes in my trunk. I hold their homes in my strong arms, And protect them from the wind and the rain. I watch and I smile. Time goes on; The city grows around me. People rest under the shade of my branches, And carve their names in my trunk. I hold small children in my arms, As they swing from my branches. I watch and I sigh. Bumped and bruised. The night falls, as men and women Carry their homes on their backs And lie on nearby benches. Their sorrow is palpable; Their need unfathomable. I watch and I weep. For days and days, Torrents of rain pour from the sky. The earth is sodden And my toes lose their grip; My ample weight pulls me down, As I crash to the ground. I watch and I wait. I look to the sky; The clouds part and the sun shines. People come with their machines. They admire my beauty and transform me; Into logs and planks, I become a sturdy shelter; A home to a kind family. I watch and I rest.
Career Day
After attending Career Day at school, Jewel must write about her dream job. This is no easy task. What career will Jewel choose?
Interactive book for Ages 9-12.
JJJ Interactive Books 