Showing posts from January, 2013

Small Stones: Day 28

Small Stones: January 31

of peace and gratitude
are plentiful
when I remember
to pay attention.

Small Stones: Day 27

Small Stones: January 30

Salamander feet
make me

Small Stones: Day 26

Small Stones: January 29

Subway tiles
     no longer white
line the ceiling
and walls
of the tunnel.

Small Stones: Day 25

Small Stones: January 28

Each morning
you enter the classroom
with the bravado
and humble heart
of a toddler.

Your quirks
are displayed
in bright colors
and bold patterns.
There are no apologies.

This morning
you swung in
on a Barenaked Ladies album
singing of break-ups
and dysfunction.
You made me smile.

You are my friend.
You are my teaching partner.
You are my mentor.

Small Stones: Day 24

Small Stones: January 27

Back and forth
     like two drunks
     playing ping pong
we try to determine
where our Sunday brunch
will take place.

"I'm hungry, I want a buffet."
I argue, thin lipped and stern.

Your defense
     "Buffets are things to be scared of.  They attract old people."
though creative
and true
angers me
in my low blood sugar rage.

Sundays are meant
for meditative practice
focused on peace and health
but all I can set my third eye on
is a buffet of french toast.

Small Stones: Day 23

Small Stones: January 25

Together we breathe
     as we try
to figure
this life out.

Small Stones: Day 22

Small Stones: January 24

When told it was snowing
the students gathered
in front of the window
that overlooks Penn Avenue.

Little hands
held on to the windowsill
and watched
as each flake
floated past.

They watched.
They smiled.
They were together.

There is still so much
I need to learn.

Small Stones: Day 21

Small Stones: January 21

     the size of feathers
fell around me
as I ran to the car.

The melted snow
gathered in my hair
reminded me
to hold on
to the life
in front of me.

Small Stones: Day 20

Small Stones: January 20

Urban sprawl
     annoyances and medians
continue to spread
in America.

Small Stones: Day 19

Small Stones: January 19

We sat in your apartment
to celebrate your birthday
over plates of chicken, rice and fruit.

There was wine.
There was jazz music.
There was laughter.

There was love for friends
     and Todd
the brown lhaso apso
from across the hall.

That damn Todd
made our night.

Small Stones: Day 18

Small Stones: January 18

Every morning
the dense branches of the tree
scrape against the worn window
of my apartment.

As the sound continues
it reminds me
that I am alive
and unusually annoyed.

Small Stones: Day 17

Small Stones: January 17

Philosophically speaking
toddlers are like little yogis
dressed in sweatpants.

Small Stones: Day 16

Small Stones: January 16

At home sick
     I look out
to bare branches
of the front yard tree.
is a cardinal
     red feathers
moving up and down
left and right.

In my lap
the fat cat
with me.

There is nothing else to do.

Small Stones: Day 15

Small Stones: January 15

On Being a Preschool Teacher During the Day and a College Writing Instructor at Night

Regardless of time
     no one
laughs at my jokes.

Small Stones: Day 14

Small Stones: January 14


for whatever reason
we have no real

Small Stones: Day 13

Small Stones: January 13

The "Writing Research Papers" textbook
     sitting on the chair
will not be read tonight.

Mob Wives is on.

Small Stones: Day 12

Small Stones: January 12

He listens to 1930s jazz on NPR
as he boils water
for string beans and broccoli.

On a Michigan shaped cutting board
he slices fresh garlic.

100 year old doors
from Heinz's Point Breeze mansion
separate us
but through cracks in the doorway
I know exactly
what I see.

Small Stones: Day 11

Small Stones: January 11

At a stoplight on Fifth Avenue
     I look up
through my passenger window
and see an apartment
     on the fourth floor
     lit up
with a man
wearing a pirate hat.

It is at this moment
that I realize
I am no longer

Small Stones: Day 10

Small Stones: January 10

When a thirty-three year old
     pre-school teacher
with moderate OCD
and a fear of germs
helps toddlers
learn to use the toilet
     her days
are comprised
of consistently

Small Stones: Day 9

Small Stones: January 9

Wednesday Morning

I open the classroom
     turn on the lights
place the paint on the table
and look out the wide window.

Colors ascend
orange, pink and blue
as waitresses
at the diner next door
serve eggs and bacon
to hungry customers.

There is joy
in this moment
and where my feet
     are planted.

Small Stones: Day 8

Small Stones: January 8

After nap
she sat next to her friend
and began eating snack.

As she ate her animal crackers
she looked at me
     mouth full of cookies
and said, "I'm a happy kid."

Later, she asked me, "Are you happy?"
I knelt beside her
and replied
"Yes. Yes, I am."

Small Stones: Day 7

Small Stones: January 7

The black and white cat
     carries in his mouth
a frayed blue octopus
around the dining room.

His fat stomach
sways from side to side
as he chirps and speaks
of all the good
to come.

Small Stones: Day 6

Small Stones: January 6

The blue, red, green and yellow orbs
that trim my window
offer more than light.

Memories of my parents' bar at Christmas
     are held
in each bulb.

The jukebox that played Bing Crosby
     the tinsel that trimmed the counter
are images that swirl in the light.

* As a child my parents owned a bowling alley in Michigan.  Some of my most fond memories are of the Christmas parties they held in the bar.  Employees and regulars of the bowling alley would show up, eat, drink, sing and laugh in the overly decorated bar.  These memories are with me tonight.*

Small Stone: Day 5

Small Stone: January 5

Waiting in line
     for a coffee and mocha
my friend and I decide
this winter
can only be warmed
by a morning of sun
to come.

Small Stone: Day 4

Small Stone: January 4

The winter branches
against the orange and white
January sky
bleed into
the rooftop snow.

Small Stone: Day 3

Small Stone: January 3

The vegetable garden
     overgrown with ice
     rests against
the backyard fence.

Small Stone: Day 2

Small Stone: January 2

    pulled to expose
    abstract designs
remind me
to take the lead
of the silver cat
and close my eyes.

Small Stone: Day 1

Small Stone for January 1

The water boils
    as sounds of the neighbor
    shoveling the snow
    from last night's fall
fills the kitchen.

I am present.