National Poetry Month 2022

One of the biggest wonderments in my life is independent reading time. Truly. Even though I know it's crazy. This year's crew is a covid crew. They are loud. Bouncy. All over the place. Many of them spent over a year at home by themselves, or in the care of siblings, while their parents- construction workers, cleaning crew, restaurant staff- worked. Parents did the best they could, but there was not a whole lot of supervision. And it shows. When we started the year, I couldn't imagine ever getting this crew to a place where we could actually do independent reading. They just didn't sit still. Or focus. They didn't care about reading. Didn't have favorite authors. The first day I set the timer for six minutes. And that was a very long time. 

And yet somehow, over the course of the year, it has come together. Now, most days, we go about twenty minutes. And could go longer, if I could figure out how to make it happen within all of the other demands on our time. And it's amazing. I set the timer. Turn the lights low. Turn on some quiet music. And we all, yes, me too, read. And it's quiet. And calm. And peaceful. And focused. And they love it. And beg for more time. 

Today, two tankas, or two almost tankas. stacked.

“Transformation”

In August, it seemed

unlikely, impossible. 

They squirmed and squawked, giggled

gawked, whispered, talked, guffawed,

No hope of retreating into books. 

April. Still squirm, squawk,

wiggle, gawk, but also settle.

Sink into seats, open books,

activate hearts and minds,

and read. Daily miracle.

© Carol Wilcox, 2022