Friday, April 25, 2014

Poetry Friday: Birthdays and Bikes and Girls Who Grow Up

A busy, lovely day here, full of lovely thoughts and things -- my birthday (and flowers from my eldest daughter and surprises from the others that still await me tonight), and spring weather (real spring weather, skin-warming sunshine),  and looking ahead to the end of our school year -- to Betsy's graduation celebration, to a summer full of time to spend with Atticus. Pondering a year of changes ahead, too, as I will be left with only one child in our homeschool....

Atticus recently sent me this poem. I thought I had shared it here before, but I think I was remembering another lovely, throat-lump inducing poem. Atticus taught all three of our girls how to ride a bike, and Shearin is right. It does "not take long before" they leave us "standing in place."

A delicate and lovely poem, for a delicate and lovely time of life.

Teaching Mavis to Ride a Bike
by Faith Shearin

We practiced in Baltimore's alleys with her dress
tucked in so it would not catch in her wheels.

It was late summer and we waited until after supper
when the sun melts.

(Read the whole, short poem here, at The Writer's Almanac.)


The Poetry Friday round up is at Tabatha Yeatts: The Opposite of Indifference


Tabatha said...

Happy Birthday, Karen! That is a good graduation poem. My oldest graduated from high school last year and when I was just thinking about what that was like, I was reminded of Mary Lee's Victoria Falls poem. Not that it was an angry or stumbling time, but that there was a sense of rushing forward, and being somewhat unaware of what lies ahead.

sarah said...

Happy birthday!

Mary Lee said...

What a surprise to find my poem in the comments here!

Happy birthday, Karen, and what lucky girls to have memories of dad teaching them to fly.

I don't remember if my dad taught me to ride a bicycle, but he taught me to drive, and he is with me every time I use my turn signal and look both ways.

Karen Edmisten said...

Thanks for the birthday wishes! I love that comparison to Mary Lee's poem, Tabatha. And Mary Lee, I remember my father's driving instruction, too. :)