Poems
Flock of Finches
A few finch fellas
Gather at my feeder
Fit Finely in their
Golden tuxedos
Must be prom season
By GlenScott Thomas Copper
Putting on a GOOD Shirt
On a Saturday morning,
Our teen surprised us by announcing that
He was going out to look for a job.
In answer to our inquiries,
He retorted that he was dressed JUST FINE
(In a t-shirt and jeans).
No, he DIDN'T have time to change clothes!
He shrugged that no ride was needed,
saying he'd be back shortly.
Then the door slammed, and he was gone.
We shook our heads,
Regretting that we couldn't talk him
Into a dress shirt and tie (literally!).
Some opportunities are just lost.
Later, in the quiet of the afternoon,
I wondered how we could have done better by him.
I remembered, when he first came to live with us,
That wed had to go clothes shopping,
After discovering that he'd owned
Only the ONE pair of socks & underwear that he had on;
And that he had no winter coat or gloves to his name.
I realized that the shirt
He was wearing when he left
Had been given to him by my husband
After a business trip.
It was his NEWEST shirt,
A momento from Thoreau's Walden Pond:
The words on it were something about
Walking to a different drummer.
It must have felt good
To receive a gift from so far away,
Making him feel more like part of the family.
In his mind, he was walking into the world in his finest attire...
His most stylish pants and his newest shirt:
Presenting himself in the BEST clothes he had.
In the end, who is to say he wasn't right?
By Karen Copper
IT'S A WONDER HE HAS ANY GOOD NATURE LEFT
My creative, bright, good-natured 8-year-old
Sits there, at the kitchen table,
Head bowed over homework
He couldn't finish the night before.
Yesterday, he carefully explained:
"Mommy, this isn't 'homework, '--
It's really schoolwork
I couldn't get done in class today."
So, for his third time (and my second),
We are trying, together, to finish it up
In the hurry-scurry time
Between breakfast and the bus.
Sometimes we work so hard on "brain" stuff
There is no time for "body" stuff--
He's already out the door when I remember
That he forgot to brush his teeth (horrors!).
This time, it's not going well.
He's doing fine until the last page.
Obviously, he knows the concepts:
With a little help, he keeps at it
And answers all the questions.
Now all that is left to do is to copy six long sentences
Onto lines that aren't long enough for 8-year-old penmanship.
(Lines too short for my adult handwriting, for God's sake--
Don't publishers test-drive their texts?)
He can't make it work--
He has more sentence
Than he has line to write it on.
So...he writes...and then he erases.
He tries so hard--truly agonizes:
"My teacher will yell at me!"
He writes some more...
And erases some more.
Write. Worry. Erase.
Two steps back. One forward.
He erases so much that
His paper is becoming parchment thin.
He's ignoring my advice:
"Just write what will fit, and go on."
He worries some more. He erases some more.
My patience is becoming paper thin.
He can't remember:
"How do you make an 'I' in cursive?"
I show him. He smiles. He goes on.
He doesn't think the teacher will like it.
He erases. Hard. He writes. Hard.
He's driving me crazy.
It's taken him 45 minutes
To write two sentences
And there are four left to do.
The bus is two minutes away.
I throw his sweatshirt in his face,
Tell him to give up:
"Leave it for later...
Explain it to the teacher--again."
We rush out the door,
Get to the bus stop.
The bus is late.
We calm down.
I apologize. Hug him.
Compliment him for trying hard.
Tell him to have a good day
As he climbs onto the bus.
Wave good-bye.
Resolve to talk to the teacher.
Resolve to be more patient.
Worry. Hard.
Wish I could erase.
By Karen Copper
Overall photo by Bionny Celine
ROOM TO GROW INTO
Overall photo by Bionny Celine
They were too big,
But he wanted them anyway.
Bibbed farmer pants originally
Bought for the dad of the house.
But, alas, the dad discovered Them to be just a little too snug!
For the young man,
They were simply fun,
Everyday, ample, comfortable pants,
Offering lots of room to move..
Never having to worry about shirtails.
Now, this young man has
Memories of the dad in such pants:
Working hard, puttering around the house,
Repairing things-keeping the house safe;
With the help of family and friends
Attaching a new art studio behind the garage;
Relaxing and reading, correcting papers,
Helping with homework; making the computer work;
Cutting wood for fires, and putting in or taking out plants,
Digging trenches that move water away from the house;
Cooking supper to feed his family, and cleaning up afterwards;
Sitting around in the house for long, compassionate discussions.
The kinds of things that dads, everywhere, take care of, in their overalls.
The young man helped, too-shoulder to shoulder, as part of a team.
True, the pants were too big, but the young man wanted them anyway.
They looked good on him, that's true, too: he seemed strong & tall in them.
Truer, yet, is the fact that each time he wears these farmer pants,
He will have the "fit" of a good man on his shoulders and around his heart.
Yes, the pants were too big. But they were just the right size to grow into.
By Karen Copper