I love M.J.

Poetry

Reverberations

With coy expressions they smile,

Knowing the secrets of their past.

The stories, which they do not tell

The memories which only they share.

Dreams realized and rewarded

Penitence of a life delayed

They sing.

*I rarely write poetry, and it is even more rare for me to show it. But, any thoughts or advice on this poem would be helpful. I keep thinking of just deleting it.

S-L-I-C-K

The world of Logan was covered in a thin sheet of ice today. And I was late.

With 7:30 breathing down my neck, and knowing that I needed to be on time for my students, I put a hustle in my bustle. When I reached the hill I go up I realized how icy the ground was and before I knew what happened I was on the ground, thinking "how did I get on the ground?" A girl then emerged from the bushes, like a paid spy to see humiliating acts, and said "it's icy huh?" and began to laugh.

Duh.

The rest of my way to school was spent sliding across ice-because, I kid you not, I had more control gliding than walking or shuffling.

So, as to be expected, when I went to my class I asked how many people slipped. 7 students raised their hands and I felt like I was in good company. Until I asked how many actually fell to the ground.

That award apparently only goes to me.

Hello-my name is Santa.

Last night I assisted in composing a fake letter from Santa for my roommates little sister. This evil craft was requested by her mom who said, "write a letter from Santa to your little sister so she stops crying and throwing tantrums." And so we did. We threw in some cliches about how only little boys and girls get presents and blah blah blah listen to your mom....you get the idea.

And now I feel like I've wronged the spirit of Christmas.

Because of this guilt, I confessed to my friend what I had done. She told me that when she was growing up her mom never let her believe in Santa, the tooth fairy, or Easter bunny. I said she didn't have a childhood.

Her reply shocked my world.

She said her mom never promoted seasonal fictitious creatures because how do you tell your child to believe in something they can see and have them find out it is a lie and then expect them to believe in Christ, a man who they can not see.

Maybe she has a point. Maybe I won't pretend to be Santa anymore.