happy halloween !!!

Saving the Blooms

It was 6 am, dark and raining. I was loading anything flowering and potted into hefty bags and then loading them into my car. I couldn't bear to have all those blooms go to waste. It was quite a job getting them into my classroom from the parking lot. But now that they are there, I am so glad I did! My classroom, lunch and paperwork partners are all enthralled with the lush green display. I am as well --- there is something very different about it all in a close, confined space. We sit and stare and feel our pulses slow to a more managable rate! It seems that I performed the mission just in time, too! Forecasters are calling for snow tomorrow --- the earliest snowfall in more than 60 years!

~

All photos taken indoors !

As always, click on photos to enlarge.

Click again to enlarge further !

In His Pavilion

Jewel Shares the Psalms

For in the time of trouble he shall hide me in his pavilion:
in the secret of his tabernacle shall he hide me;
he shall set me up upon a rock.
Psalm 27:5


Thirty years ago I met her.
Coltish and cool, with a certain
agitation always propelling.
Scanning any crowd,
instantly identifying
both broken heart and broken soul.

Midnight or morning whisperings
revealed pain and personal recipe for remedy;
laying bare was her habit.
I watched her cycle through the crash, burn,
and cauterization of too intense, too loving,
too much.

Her hands always in flight, eyes flashing,
laughter quick, fumbling through
belief and dream trying to find a walk
that met her desire, faith and zeal.
She lived and breathed close integration
of intent.

Tempered through the decades,
a certain softening had settled into her edges
but ever friend, confidant, defender and servant.
Not one to keep anything for herself, "Imagine this,"
she said, "the promised pavilion. That's where I go.
I leave the door open for you."


C.M. Carroll

On the Boy's Birthday ...

Before I went to sleep, the soft lamplights
from the tenements across the street,
still, in the night, resembled peace.
There is something I forgot to be grateful
for. But I'm not uneasy. This poem
is enough gratitude for the day. That leaf
tapping against the window, enough
music for the night. My love's even
breathing, a lullaby for me.
Gentle is the sun's touch
as it brushes the earth's revolutions.
Fragrant is the moon in February's sky.
Stars look down & witness,
never judge. The City moves
beneath me, out of sight.
O let this poem be a planet
or a haven. Heaven for a poet
homeward bound. Rest my son's head
upon sweet dreams & contentment.
Let me turn out the light to rest.

by Susan Cataldo

Prickly...

...and absolutely mad at the world today.

My advice?

Maintain a wide berth and safe perimeter

and

proceed with caution.