First of all, isn’t it a righteous comfort that there even is such a thing as Children’s Poet Laureate? 
Like maybe there are folks in charge somewhere who’ve got their heads screwed on right?

When we value poetry, as a society, we are saying that we value self-expression, beauty and space.
We are saying we value whimsy and wordplay, wisdom and thoughtfulness, creativity and imagination. 
And when we name a Children’s Poet Laureate, we are saying we value all those things not just for adults, but for children, too.

I don’t know about you, but that makes me feel better already.

So, this morning I’m raising my coffee cup to the outgoing Children’s Poetry Laureate — the world master of rhyme — Mary Ann Hoberman. Here she is reading the delectable All Kinds of Families. Thank you for your service, Ms. Hoberman!

And then, after a good-sized sip, I raise my cup again to the ever-inspiring, prolific, diverse, wise, generous, funny and, okay, downright brilliant, poet that is J. Patrick Lewis — our new Children’s Poet Laureate!

Here’s an announcement of his appointment.

And a lovely interview with him (conducted by our own Sylvia Vardell). 

And another one!

And finally, this lovely poem:

Books Discover Children
by J. Patrick Lewis

Yes, children do discover books,
But books find children on their own,
And then can’t wait to get their hooks
In kids who think they’re all alone.

(Read the whole thing, and a couple of others, here….)

Congratulations, Pat!! 
And lucky us….

 My last school visit of the year was, appropriately enough, at my own daughter’s school – for Young Authors Day. I was given two groups of 4th graders for an hour each. I could’ve done more than two groups for more than an hour. It was pretty sweet.

We talked about seeing things in new ways, since I think that’s pretty much the only original thing any one of us can do, aside from making up words, maybe.

And we wrote poems filled with lies, dreams, and metaphors. 

Here are two the kids wrote together before each taking to their own white page.
I think they’re pretty fine…

Group Poem #1

Ecstasy is like a spacecraft
dodging stars way up high.

Excitement is like a kiwi fruit
sour-sweet-awesome
looking like a bouncing ball,
ready to be eaten.

So loathe was I to give up April that I waited ’til today,
the 1st of May,
to post my final poem…

Thank you all for joining me this month, for reading, and for posting so much good poetry yourselves.

April really should be longer. 
Don’t you think?

4/20/2011

kayak, girl and dad
he fishes and she gets wet
both are radiant

There is nothing sweeter than a Saturday with a bunch of spare hours for knocking around. 
‘Specially when it’s spring and the swans are out with their cygnets and the wind blows fancy crop-circle patterns in the water and a ten-year-old still thinks there’s nobody better than her dad…

4/29/2011

your birthday morning
brisk air, thin moon, and bird song
a happy new year

My husband and I share a birthday month.
I kick it off with a little Aries impetuousness, he closes it out with typical Taurus patience.

And today, this particular birthday, feels especially hard-won and a long time in the coming.

This time last year he was still at the front-edge of quite a brutal cancer jousting. 
(Which, by the way, he won.)
Bring on the bird song…

For more Poetry Friday posts, go here!

And for a look at a month’s full of my daily haiku/haibun, just scroll backwards!

4/28/2011

moth in the raita
shakes the yogurt from his wings
we still eat outside

There is all the worry about co-existing with wild creatures in our decreasingly wild world — 
we’ve stolen their habitat, they get into our garbage. 

But sometimes it’s less complicated than that.
It can be lovely, surprising, funny.

There was a grackle in the Whole Foods today and I assure you, he was not panicked.
He was, in fact,  totally satisfied. 
And then, tonight, eating Indian food with friends, we had this run-in with a moth.
It was momentary. 
Surprising. 
Kind of funny. 

And then it was over, the moth flying toward its next pretty light. 
And we, moving onto a delicious nutty naan.

 4/26/2011

air heavy and green
mounting thundercloud above
and still, there’s no rain

It is so dry here that everything crackles — the grass, the leaves, the dust.
And we haven’t even hit the heat of summer yet. 
Fronts move through and we all stop, look up, hopeful…

4/27/2011

hello, mourning doves
collecting seeds and berries — 
your nestlings coo, coo

My daughter’s school is wrapped and woven with covered, outdoor hallways and in every rafter, it seems, are nests. And in the bushes in my backyard. And in the boxes strung up high on the hill near our house. Baby birds, everywhere… hungry, eager, surprised and wide awake.

4/25/2011

the front yard is dirt
we dug up everything green
so we could start fresh

OK, so I seem to be stuck on the start fresh theme.
I guess by April I sort of need a few do-overs.
And honestly, our yard was already mostly dirt.
Now we’re just going to try to really grow some stuff in it….
 

4/24/2011

shards of ceramic
like stars across the counter
not a bowl I need

It was a funny Easter.
The eggs, it turns out, weren’t exactly hard-boiled.
And our pets were all afraid of the cobwebs (the string mazes our girls follow to get to their baskets).
And we were all so tired after a big week, we actually ended up at a Wimpy Kid matinee.

So it’s no surprise it culminated in a spectacular kitchen crash — a ramekin on the concrete kitchen counter.
Never mind, though.
Easter, pagan or Christian, is about fresh starts.
Right?

Another week with no real time at my desk.
A lovely problem to have.
So here, from my journal, are my haibuns….

4/20/2011

this head of romaine
a gargantuan bouquet
the whole world’s salad

Today’s veggie basket bore beets and turnips, spinach and radishes and the most spectacular head of lettuce I’ve ever seen in my life. Tonight, caesar salad for everyone!

4/21/2011

middle of the bridge
between bright birds and water
a piano waits

There is a public art project in Austin right now — 15 pianos set around town — in parks and on paths, near streets, atop bridges — there for the playing. When my mom and dad and I walked around the lake this morning, we passed three, stopped to play one, and then listened to a guy play a bluesy piece while his friend accompanied him on her accordion. And then we carried on…

4/22/2011

candy-colored dye
vinegar and white wax crayons
each egg a canvas

In spring, we read outside, eat outside, shuck corn, make crafts and take naps outside.
It’s too nice to waste, this weather. 
So this morning, out we went with our little plastic cups of orange and turquoise and blue, and our hard-boiled eggs.
The squirrels worried and the wind blew and we created these shining little balls of light…

4/23/2011

missing cat is back
with matted hair, and limping
I wish he could talk

We have two old boy cats and one of them, in particular, is a wanderer. About once a year he’ll take off for a few days, we’ll worry that he’s gone for good, and then he’ll come trotting back in, meowing for food. This time it was a full week, and he’s older, and the days are hot and dry. I’d even posted on the neighborhood listserv and checked the animal shelter. No luck. Until tonight, when he arrived — looking as if he’d been on an epic journey. Skinny and beat up, but alive. It is so odd to wonder where he’s been and what he’s been through, and to know that we’ll never know…

4/19/2011

egg moon calling fish
to swim upstream, and me too — 
what is there that’s new?

It is spawning season and the moon’s full and it’s time for Seder and Easter and all that.

There are so many new years, aren’t there? 
Fall, when school starts.
January, according to the calendar.
And now.
Crocuses. Bird eggs. A poem or two…

And here’s a little Lucky Strike extra for you — some haiku humor.

Because I’m thematic that way.

(Thanks to my brother-in-law for being my man-in-the-field on this one…)