In Verses & Song

Photo above by Tim Gainey, available on  pixels.com  I.  Gone is the little boy  who would rush to me with smiles  and laughter, who snuggled into my lap  for stories and always asked for another song.    Gone is the elementary school boy  who flew down the soccer field elated to pass the ball  to his teammate.    Gone is the middle school boy  who requested Harry Potter nights, showed me tricks  on his skateboard and jumped endlessly  on the trampoline.    Here beside me is a junior high boy  on the cusp of high school and manhood — a boy  who wants to be both boy and man,  both teen and child at the same time.    Here beside me is the son  I spent 12 months missing  as his arms and legs and chest and hair grew, the son  who now stands taller and speaks louder, hugs harder.    I see him holding so much in, fighting  against crying until it spills out in gasps.  He wipes it away, hides his face  shuts the door to his room.    I watch him stand in a spot of sunshine  in the yard, turnin

  Look into the morning Listen to silence, to stillness Bare blue sky, Bones of trees Pale cold sunshine Look to the leaves Listen to the wind Wings fluttering between branches Tails slipping up, down, over, under Flurries of motion Cutting though quiet  Piano keys playing an arpeggio  Waking me, Speaking to me Asking with each note  If I will Hang On To the Descending  Winter If I will Rise To Greet The Ascending Spring Copyright @Stacie Eirich January 22, 2024   Listen to Poetry for Peace, Season 4, Episode 2: I Thank the Morning on Spotify Here Written in solitude and relative silence, this poem has a lonely tone ringing through it. We tend to think of loneliness as something unwanted, something that says we need more connection with others, more of humanity’s music. But it isn’t that kind of loneliness that I feel when sitting alone on mornings like these. It is solitary, yes, and January’s chill can be bitter. But this is the kind of aloneness that a writer sometimes seeks; it bri