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June 29, 2015

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Ode to Baby Kale

Tiny green fans,
For cooling a sprite,
A nibble for children:
A snack to delight.
First, soaked as seed,
Then planted in soil,
Watered and lit from above,
Sprouted into a tiny coil.
Two oval leaves
Reached for the light,
Edges becoming scalloped
With veins of bright white.
Baby green kale,
Planted between sage,
Chives and thyme,
Becomes an herbal mage,
With the power
Of flavor and health,
Until devoured by rabbits
With predawn stealth.

Note: This ode is to my baby kale, photographed prior to devastation by bunnies, insatiable little beasts. They seem to prefer the things I grow from seed to any clover or sweet grass. They never eat my chives.

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Brenda Davis Harsham

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March 19, 2015

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Holiday, Photography, Poetry

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Spring Magic

And above all, watch with glittering eyes
the whole world around you because the greatest secrets
are always hidden in the most unlikely places.
Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.

— Roald Dahl (Minpins, 1991)

Drip,
Rain
Drop
Plops,
Spring will come
With black mud, bees
And crocuses beneath trees.
Baby robins will scatter shells.
Fairies will chant vernal spells.
Birds will sing madrigals at dawn
To wood violets blooming on the lawn.
Foxglove’s speckled trumpets will play
With snowdrops and magnolias in May.

snowdrops

Ours shall be the gypsy winding
Of the path with violets blue,
Ours at last the wizard finding
Of the land where dreams come true.

— Lucy Maud Montgomery (from Spring Song)

Note: My poem, Spring Magic is a concrete poem, taking the shape of a drooping tulip or possibly a lily of the valley bell as suggested by Matt Forrest Ersenwine. Thanks, Matt! Happy Spring! This post is an ode to Spring in honor of the Vernal Equinox which is at 6:45 p.m. here on March 20, 2015. And a happy coincidence, also in honor of Poetry Friday, hosted this week by Catherine Flynn at Reading to the Core who shared a wonderful original poem for World Folk Tales and Fables Week. I hope you have time to visit her. The photographs were all taken last spring — this year the ground is covered by a knee-deep sea of receding white ice.

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Brenda Davis Harsham

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February 19, 2015

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Photography, Poetry

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Speak for Compassion

On this bench, many times I have contemplated skinned knees, heard stories of woe or watched battles royal fought by three- and four-foot folk. Now the snow and cold drives us indoors, where children’s pains seem more internal as well.

Speak softly
Without haste,
For a word,
Ill-placed,
May strike a blow
To one hurt
On the inside.
This we can avert.

Reflect on any
Plans or actions.
Evil arises from
Creation of factions.
Harsh words divide,
Conquer and defeat.
Imagine being the other.
Use compassion. Repeat.

Whether we are talking about children, adults, religions, towns or countries, we all need to pause and reflect. To imagine life as the other.

I don’t like to moralize,
Or antagonize,
But in the face of evil
Speak I will.
Choose an action
From compassion.

Note: The combination of poetry, interspersed in prose, is called a haibun. This recent rash of school shootings, terrorism and racial and religious violence moved me to speak together with many others, in a movement started by Yvonne Spence. Let’s create a better world for our children, a magical, safe world where differences are celebrated rather than used to divide and ridicule.

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Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

February 16, 2015

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Photography, Poetry

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Snowy Trees

Snowy trees up to their knees
In a snow-packed deep freeze.
Bend, creak, snap and sneeze,
Branches speak with the breeze.

Note: New England has been blessed with about 90 inches of snow in three weeks. Roads are narrow and icy. Snow banks along driveways and roads are mammoth. Visibility is nil. The White Wizard has sent a blizzard unlike any we have ever seen.

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Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

February 8, 2015

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Photography, Poetry

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Wild and Stormy

Snow creatures fly through the night,
Swat the tree and stick there tight.
The storm is wild; the creatures light.
Next day they remain, mossy and white.

Note: I hope to catch up on your blog posts tomorrow when my traveling is done. Hope you have a great week ahead, all my friends! Warmly, Brenda

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Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

February 4, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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Flowers Bright

Petals dizzy
Curled,
Whirled,
Flowers budded,
Tightly furled.

Petals soft as silk,
Aromas sing,
Memories of bees —
Brought to my knees,
Longing for spring.

Note: This is dedicated to florists and flowers growers everywhere, who give those of us in snow clogged Northern states the illusion of spring for a few moments of zing. I’m not going to be on-line much for about a week. I’ll be out of town at a children’s writer’s conference. 🙂 Have a great week!

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Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

January 1, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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Found Magic

Sunset-glowing mums
Cast an earthy magic
Over a vanilla day.
My blue mug steams,
The bitter scent of green tea
Mingling with honey’s sweetness.
The calendar suggests newness.
January First: a new morning,
A new chance, a new start, a new dream.
Frozen grass crunches underfoot and
The sky is blue, clear and cold.
My breath steams like my mug:
Superheated for a magical brew,
Making all things seem new.
I resolve to find magic,
In any small detail, new or old,
Find magic and learn to take hold.

Note: Happy New Year to all my friends!! These blooms are thanks to Trader Joe’s, a magical place.

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Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

December 24, 2014

Posted under

Holiday, Photography, Poetry

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Gingerbread Joy

Snow lingers in spun-sugar drifts
On gingerbread houses: my spirits lift.
Such a colorful display of cake and candy
Makes the world seem sweet and dandy.
Even though holly bushes are snow-bare,
The winter season gives magic to share,
As children, near and far, laugh and play
Because Santa Claus can’t be far away!
Whether you feel reverence at a birth,
Or making kids happy brings you mirth,
May your days be full of surprises and joy,
Like a holly berry, saved for a fairy’s toy.

Merry Christmas!!

Note: This amazing gingerbread house was part of a display at Wilson Farms in Lexington, MA.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

October 30, 2014

Posted under

Holiday, Humor, Photography, Poetry

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Happy Halloween!

A fright, A scream
Things unseen,
A scary dream,
Happy Halloween!

Halloween is tomorrow, be safe! Be spooky!

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Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

October 22, 2014

Posted under

Humor, Photography, Poetry

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Ogden Nashery

Itty bitty, not very pretty,
(Unless to his mama)
Stone silent, not very witty,
But the high hop creates drama;
From the woods not the city
(At least not Yokohama)
Inspires this little ditty
From one who likes to yammah.

Note: Despite my usual inclination that a poet should never explain, for those not from New England, the “yammah” is a Bostonian pronunciation of yammer. My photograph is of a Pinetree Spurthroated Grasshopper (Melanoplus punctulatus), a rare sighting. Not only had I never seen a grasshopper like him before, my research indicated he’s rare in general. My poem is an ode to Ogden Nash, a particular favorite author of my children and I. Here is one of his poems, which I hope offering here, would not have displeased him:

The Ant

The ant has made himself illustrious
Through constant industry industrious.
So what?

Would you be calm and placid,
If you were full of formic acid?

— Ogden Nash

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

October 11, 2014

Posted under

Holiday, Photography, Poetry

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50 Comments

Tree Bling

When the trees bling
And the colors zing,
Joy is on an upswing.
My heart begins to sing,
My spirit takes wing,
Dancing a highland fling
As if I’m in a fairy ring.

Note: This weekend is Columbus Day Weekend here in New England. We harvest apples, press cider and hike in the woods. The holiday is controversial. In 1492, Columbus sailed the blue. Some claim he “discovered” America, but others argue he came rather late to the party. Asians had crossed the land bridge thousands of years before 1492, and millions already lived in the Americas. Viking and Chinese explorers had already beaten him to the Americas by sea as well. That’s water under the bridge now, and my family has been settled here for hundreds of years. When the leaves change, I am extra-thankful to be here, as magic reveals the luminous color underlying the green. The riverside becomes a place of otherworldly beauty. Whether or not you celebrate Columbus Day as a day of discovery, I hope you discover magic in the world today. It’s there every day, whether or not we recognize it.