Snow Days

Snow Days


There isn't anything

more full of life and joy

that one's own child

who doesn't have

to go to school

because of snow.


The snowstorms

are an unexpected gift,

a time to snuggle

in a chair before a fire,

a time to play and laugh

and soak the laziness

into our bones,

a time to be

exceedingly undone.


For grown-ups such free days

are rare.  Our lives are focused by

the drumbeat of our work,

the cadence of impatient

fingers on a desk. 


Perhaps my child's lesson

is the one I need to learn--

there isn't anything

more full of

joy and fun,

than one entire day

that's full of snow

and free of everything

I thought was life.

-From The Sea Accepts All Rivers and Simple Gifts


Wooden Boats

Featured as today's poem on Panhala daily poetry posting. I'd like to share it with you as well., in honor of my brother, David. And perhaps you'll be moved to sign up for the daily poetry post yourselves. To sign up for the poetry from Panhala, send a blank email to:

waiting for the tide.jpg

Wooden Boats

I have a brother who builds wooden boats,
Who knows precisely how a board
Can bend or turn, steamed just exactly
Soft enough so he, with help of friends,
Can shape it to the hull.

The knowledge lies as much
Within his sure hands on the plane 
As in his head;
It lies in love of wood and grain,
A rough hand resting on the satin 
Of the finished deck.

Is there within us each 
Such artistry forgotten
In the cruder tasks 
The world requires of us,
The faster modern work 
That we have
Turned our life to do?

Could we return to more of craft
Within our lives, 
And feel the way the grain of wood runs true,
By letting our hands linger 
On the product of our artistry?
Could we recall what we have known
But have forgotten, 
The gifts within ourselves, 
Each other too,
And thus transform a world 
As he and friends do,
Shaping steaming oak boards
Upon the hulls of wooden boats?

~ Judy Brown ~

(The Sea Accepts All Rivers & Other Poems)