It’s the first Friday of March (where has the time gone?) and a new month of Poetry Fridays. Thank you Kathryn Apel for hosting this week at Katwhiskers! She has an inspiring post and acrostic poem about writing, persistence and passion. Congratulations to her on her new picture book, “A Bird in the Herd.”
I have been polishing a work in progress, a collection of non-fiction poems for third grade about something we all know about, the wonder of digestion. I have been thinking about humor and what facts to include where.
Though I didn’t get to every February prompt offered by Laura Shovan, I gave one or two a try every week. The poem I want to share this week is from a prompt by Randi Sonenshine on day #25, using this photo for inspiration.
The prompt is about the ways living things try to blend in. The photo above is of an octopus that is disguised as coral. I’m not sure I see it, but that is the point, isn’t it? The master of disguise, the walking stick, aka stick bug, came to mind.
Stick bugs are found all over the world except Antarctica or Patagonia. They can be a foot long, but most are several inches. They are fascinating to look at because it’s hard to tell at first if it is a twig or a bug.
There are about 3,000 species and usually they will reside in one single tree their whole life, eating its leaves. Oaks are popular. They live about one year and survive mainly by their ability to avoid detection by taking on the color and texture of wood, although some use unpleasant secretions and sharp spines to defend themselves.
SUNDAY MORNING IN HOLLYWOOD A long brown stick bug, dead-still, in twig-pose, on an oak tree except to munch on a leaf, Lady Gaga hurries to a coffee shop in dark shades jeans and no make-up. Will they outsmart bats, birds, and the paparazzi and finish breakfast? © Janice Scully 2021
I have no idea if Lady Gaga wants to avoid the paparazzi but I imagine she does, at least on Sunday morning.
Good luck to our teachers as they get vaccines soon and children returning safely to school. With children in mind, I’ll close with a joyful verse by William Blake. We all know how children want to play and resist coming back indoors at the end of a summer day. Hopefully kids will have more freedom this summer.
NURSE'S SONG by William Blake When the voices of children are heard on the green And laughing is heard on the hill, My heart is at rest within my breast And everything else is still. "Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down And the dews of night arise; Come, come, leave off play, and let us away Till the morning appears in the skies." "No, no let us play, for it is yet day And we cannot go to sleep; Besides, in the sky the little birds fly And the hills are all cover'd with sheep. "Well, well, go & play till the light fades away And then go home to bed." The little ones leaped & shouted & Laugh'd And all the hills echoed.