2 Poems of Hope for the New Year

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Howdy, Campers ~ and happy Poetry Friday!  (Two poems and the PF link are below)

CONGRATULATIONS to the TeachingAuthors reader who won Kimberly Hutmacher's book, Your Nose Never Stops Growing and Other Cool Human Body Facts in our last giveaway of the year.... drum roll, please...

 ---> John S! <---
(This is not a picture of John, but I'll bet he's this excited)

I'm honored to be writing the last TeachingAuthors post of our 10th year. We'll return refreshed and ready to entertain, educate and inspire you on January 10, 2020.
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I wanted to end this year with a note of hope.

Or two.

I scrolled through old poems tagged with the word hope--there are lots!

Then I cold-bloodedly killed off all but two...and can't decide which to post. So here are two to send you into the new year with hearts full of hope. Which do you prefer?

IN KAUAI
by April Halprin Wayland
July 27, 2018

I'm fourteen

the sand is neon hot

I run into the sea

letting its waves drink me

I swim as if I'm in our school's pool

burying my face in its warm water

savoring that strange grey light the concrete walls cast

reveling in its chlorine smell

but I'm in Kauai, Hawaii, salt in my eyes, salt in the air

there are fish below, but I don't have a snorkel or mask

so I swim and swim and swim—

there are no concrete walls here

and oof! I bump into a snorkeling man and his daughter

we laugh and he takes off his gear, "Here—you've got to see this"

as if it were the most natural thing

as if we were long-time friends

so I do—I put my mouth on the bite tab

even though we've never met—

and slip on the mask to see
what I knew was there

what I didn't know

was how much kindness
was swimming

so near

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ALMOST 10 PM

by April Halprin Wayland
August 19, 2010

My brain is sinking into the first chapter of a really great book.

I’m on top of the bed leaning against four fat pillows

wearing my seriously soft socks

as always.

Gary's reading The Economist on the little couch

head back against the square cushion he’s positioned just right  

feet on the opposite arm of the couch

as always.

Eli is upside down, back legs against the couch

front legs straight up in the air, paws flopped

eyes closed, breathing deeply

as always.

The balcony door nearest the couch

is open

letting in a loose tangle of African daisies

and this just-right August night.

I turn a page.

Something makes me look up.

Elsie

pokes her head in the bedroom door.

Her green eyes narrow.

She studies the dog for a minute.

Then she slinks blackly along the edge of the room

towards our bed.

I wave my arm frantically over my head,

finally catch Gary's eye,

mouth, “ELSIE!”

and point.

Elsie is evading a predator.

She relaxes as she slips past the bed

which will block Eli's view if he wakes,

then takes a cat-light leap, landing next to my thigh.

By the time I turn on the ten’ clock news

(which wakes Eli)

Elsie is warm on my stomach.

Eli trots over.

She offers her head to him for a lick.

For several licks.

She leans further forward,

purring.

His tail wags furiously.

He puts his paw on her

and cocks his head.

Her ears flatten.

Elsie's purr goes guttural, dark, deep.

Eli sits down.

Then he yawns (I am so bored).
Chews an itch by his tail. Lies down.

Maybe there is hope

for peace

in the Middle East

after all.

 Elsie & Eli the first day they met, 2010

Eli romancing Elsie when they were young

poems (c) 2019 April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved.

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From all of us at TeachingAuthors ~
may you have moments of peace
this holiday season
and may we all find hope
in the new year.

And thank you, Buffy, for hosting Poetry Friday today!

posted with a little help from Eli by April Halprin Wayland