Flight Lessons



growing and flying

here and away from the nest

fledglings on the wing

eagle-eyed mother watches

oversees the lessons learned


Coming To Terms

From beginning to the ending

Though the time may be but brief

There is wonder in connection

In the parting no small grief

From the union tightly bonded

To the severing of ways

Histories that live on still

Though memories will fade

From moments of first meeting

To shy smiles fully shown

Through jokes and lessons jointly learned

Time has swiftly flown

And touched by one year’s loving

Their knowing in my heart

I’ll shed a tear one week today

When they and I must part

I’ll see them though in passing

And sometimes fully grown

The kids I’ve taught have taught me too

Offspring like my own

Families formed in term time

Terms have come and gone

Fostered for such little whiles

All children I have known

Simplicity and trusting

Their mischief and their smiles

From little lives the largest love

Greatest love by miles


That’s not to say that I’m not looking forward to the end of the school year. I’m sad, not daft!

‘No’ to Arrested Development

See how she sits in her high chair,

Obedient child to the last,

See how she sups up her porridge,

Flavoured with history past.


See how she spits out the spoonful,

Proferred by patronage hand,

See how she picks up her own now,

Infancy making a stand.


See how she learns from endeavour,

As natural an act as can be,

See how she grows to an adult,

Independent, self-nourished and free.


See how some children, retarded

By parents who will not let go,

Develop arrested behaviours,

Damaged by some who don’t know


That nothing is worth being stuck there,

Harnessed in chair like a child.

It breaks under pressure from fairy tales,

Sometimes we’re born to be wild.


Wild as the woad on our faces

When history wrote out our path,

But timing is now, and with courage,

Freedom not given, we grasp


The spoon from the parent who knows not

A whit of development’s way.

Our children are free as a nation, come

September 18th, ‘Yes!’, Independence Day.

Heaven’s Sweetest Gift

My heart it is an open book.

Come in, sit down, please, take a look.

Many chambers has it there,

Colonized by those for whom I care.


Mother, father, sisters, brothers,

That’s where it had its start.

As I grew, quite gradually,

More filled this growing heart.


Like honeycombs the chambers teem,

Husband, children, all who mean

The world to me, this growing love,

Sourced from up above.


For all I’ve loved and lost through life,

In role as mother, daughter, wife

And friend, of course, let’s not forget,

All tenderness for those when met


Gathered in one place you’ll find

Those dear to me, I keep in mind.

And sweetness all I do amass,

Then contemplate in looking glass.


When heart is full, this golden rule,

Important one, you’ll see.

In giving all to others,

Is chamber left for me?


I stop then. Search and look beyond

Those inside. For though I’m fond

Of each and every one therein,

Not loving self is greatest sin.


A mirror’d image in their eyes,

I see their love for me, their sighs,

That all my love’s capacity

Should count as love for me.


Scan and focus inwards so

Some loving self may start to grow.

For those that love you do not lie,

Reflected in each winsome eye.


I turn again from thoughts like those,

Recollect that love it grows

In hive of heart where honey lives

And sweetness tastes so good to give.


This I know, my little chamber,

Built for only me, remember

Is when I keep good company

In loving all and loving me.


There’s nothing special about my heart,

No more than others here.

It fills and swells, develops

With the passing of each year.


And though some others may decry

When love you offer. By and by

You’ll learn that nothing bad will grow

From any love that you may show.


So look above, unending source,

Absorb, believe and then, of course,

Fill each little chamber full,

But don’t forget the golden rule.


Love is not a passing phase,

It fills your heart and all your days.

Its measure is a boundless gift

And spirit so will lift.


Resist it not when comes its call

For greatest gift to one and all

Is love when offered, received and given.

This, sweet gift from heaven.