Reading

 

I remember being about six years old, sitting beside an unnamed adult who held a copy of Babar by Jean de Brunhoff. They read the story aloud, and I was thrilled listening to the words and looking at the pictures. At some point I grabbed the book and stared at the lines of print myself. That was when I realized I could not read. My little brain was stunned. I felt frustrated, I wanted to read the book on my own. 

Not long after, I found a copy of Madeline by Ludwig Bemelmans. I held it with hope, but the words did not make sense. I kept looking at the pictures and tried to make sense of them.  

Time passed, and I went to grade school. Slowly, patiently, the letters began to make sense. Sounds formed into words, words into sentences, and sentences into entire worlds. Reading finally came to me.  

Georgia

A Valentine Card for My Grandson

 

Happy Valentine’s Day, my sweet boy.
Be kind, be brave, and remember how deeply you are loved.

 

Georgia

Words on a Kite

 

Paper and string I may be,  

With tiny bones blown by gusts. 

The blue open sky knows my name,  

Even my shadow lets go.

Georgia

The Golden Cat

 

I dreamed a golden cat rang my doorbell with its tail. 

He was carrying a small sun and walked past me in a hurry as I opened the door.  

The cat said, “Is dinner ready,” though I had never agreed to cook dinner for a golden cat.  

It sat on my couch, turned into a loaf of bread, then back into a cat, offended that I noticed. 

Melted butter was dripping off the wall, and we gathered it into pink and green bowls.  

The cat yawned, swallowed the clock, and everything felt finished and perfectly wrong. 

Wrong is good sometimes.

Georgia

Pelicans and Cormorants

 

In a small community along the Florida coast, there lived a large population of Pelicans along with a large number of Cormorants.  Both are water birds and although they get along, they don’t really pay attention to each other.  Pelicans are large, brown and have large beaks with throat pouches that can hold up to three gallons of water.  Cormorants are medium sized, have dark brown colored bodies and long necks.

One thing these two birds have in common is building their nests on the ground not far from the coast land. The ground is not as safe and secure as other locations to build nests. Unfortunately, they will learn this firsthand when a severe windstorm passes through the coastline one afternoon.

A mother Cormorant had built her nest on the ground but didn’t realize it was too close to the water.  When the windstorm arrived, it blew the nest with four eggs into the water.

Mother Cormorant started squawking and shrieking in her loudest distress calls.  All the Pelicans and Cormorants saw the nest floating away and they were frantic.

Suddenly, one of the bigger Pelicans flew off in the direction of the nest.  He caught up to it, swooped down with his large beak, and scooped the nest with eggs into his large throat pouch.  It fit with ease!  The Pelican flew back to the Mother Cormorant and placed the nest gently at her feet, not one egg missing.

“Thank you, thank you so much! You saved my babies and you didn’t have to do that!  What empathy you have!  Until eternity, whenever I dive for my fish, I will share them with you.  You will never go hungry,” said Mother CormorantIn a small community along the Florida coast, there lived a large population of Pelicans along with a large number of Cormorants.  Both are water birds and although they get along, they don’t really pay attention to each other.  Pelicans are large, brown and have large beaks with throat pouches that can hold up to three gallons of water.  Cormorants are medium sized, have dark brown colored bodies and long necks.

One thing these two birds have in common is building their nests on the ground not far from the coast land. The ground is not as safe and secure as other locations to build nests. Unfortunately, they will learn this firsthand when a severe windstorm passes through the coastline one afternoon.

A mother Cormorant had built her nest on the ground but didn’t realize it was too close to the water.  When the windstorm arrived, it blew the nest with four eggs into the water.

Mother Cormorant started squawking and shrieking in her loudest distress calls.  All the Pelicans and Cormorants saw the nest floating away and they were frantic.

Suddenly, one of the bigger Pelicans flew off in the direction of the nest.  He caught up to it, swooped down with his large beak, and scooped the nest with eggs into his large throat pouch.  It fit with ease!  The Pelican flew back to the Mother Cormorant and placed the nest gently at her feet, not one egg missing.

“Thank you, thank you so much! You saved my babies and you didn’t have to do that!  What empathy you have!  Until eternity, whenever I dive for my fish, I will share them with you.  You will never go hungry,” said Mother Cormorant.

Ellen G

The Hero of Northern Boulevard

 Idling at a traffic light, on the barren expanse of Northern Boulevard. 

Motion suspended, thoughts suspended, a checkered ball suspended –  

No, rising, sailing, arcing joyfully 

High above the pavement, the stoplight, the chain link fence  

That sequestered an adjacent schoolyard teeming with children 

Who swirled in serpentine games. 

 

The soccer ball sunk silently into the maelstrom. 

My eyes retraced path to the narrow median where its flight began. 

Poised, triumphantly was a small round man 

Grey knit cap adorned his head, 

Atop an explosion of granite-hued beard 

That seemed to crumble in the radiance of his grin. 

 

He waved. In that moment,  

He was Yogi Berra on the pitcher’s mound. 

A war hero atop a festooned float. 

The light changed to green. 

He disappeared into his car and was swept out of sight 

In the freshly flowing traffic. 

Shelia

Birds

 

Today we had a rare, heavy snowstorm—something we don’t often get in my area. 

I feed the local birds with bits of bread, creating what I think of as Bird TV for my cat. This morning felt different. Early on, I set the bread out on the windowsill as usual and wondered if any birds would brave the storm at all. 

Normally, the big, plump pigeons and turtle doves arrive first, devouring nearly everything and knocking enough crumbs down for the smaller birds below. But during the swirling snow, none of them appeared. 

Instead, the little birds came—sparrows and starlings—battling the wind and stinging snowflakes as they pecked determinedly at the bread. Watching them struggle on, I found myself seeing them differently. Those small birds are braver than I ever gave them credit for—certainly braver than the big ones. 

Georgia