Being dispensible

I need to

I must

Oh, no, first I should

But if I’m not

No one else can

Everyone counts on me

Did I forget to

I hate to, but if I don’t

If I don’t, who will?

I haven’t had a chance

I’ll do it myself, just as soon as

Don’t worry, I’ll get to it

We teachers take on so much,

We forget that we take it on voluntarily

And we forget it’s okay to say no. 

We caretakers and quiet leaders need care, too. 

It’s time we put ourselves first – and mean it.

Hershey’s Treasures

Two tiny pieces
Little treasure chests built of sugar and cocoa, storing creamy caramel or peanut butter.
In their shiny pink and purple wrapping
Fit perfectly in the cozy cubbyhole beneath my car’s radio.
Sharing their intimate space with extra sunglasses, they wait patiently.
For the day they’ll be needed
When their sweet aroma
And savory filling
Will satisfy Mom or Dad or child or teen
Traveling a long distance
Or running errands until dinner time is past.
How long will these little treasures last?
They will provide pleasure far behond
What their diminutive size might suggest.

Caretakers of Water

an elemental poem

Water
Wet, clear
Dripping, collecting, pooling
Who owns this water?

The people who pump it into their swimming pool, clean it with cholrine, and swim in it to ease the stress of daily living?
Mr. and Mrs. Mallard who are looking for a place to live?
Those who harness its power for the industries that give us jobs and products to purchase with our pay?
Those who live near it, on it, and in it?
Or those who pum it through miles of desert pipeline to reach their homes?
Those who sail on it?
The companies who bottle it to sell in stores, Or the people who pay for the bottles?

The caretakers
Of all the water on Earth
Those who drink from it
Those who bathe in it
Those who use it, treat it, Return it to its source
All use, and therefore share, ownership and responsibility for this precious resource.

Spring, alas

Piles of snow and ice tenaciously refuse to melt on the north sides of buildings and trees

Fallen branches from the ice storm mock the emerging crocuses

Beauty emerges within the storm’s beastly remains.

Grateful for low tech tools

The fireplace, the printed book, the battery-operated radio

We stay wrapped up in the magic warmth of blanket throws

And wait until the weather warms enough

to deliver tornado season.

Alas, that’s spring.