forward...hatCH!

It's Poetry Friday, and here in Bethesda, we are having a wintry start to spring with 1-3" inches of snow predicted...but the new season is hatCHing out no matter what (so say I!).  This is my day to pull something out of the files for the Forward...MarCH CHallenge, and I surprised myself by remembering this one that has not seen light of day in 15 years.  It's a teacher poem rather than a kid poem, but here goes:

For the Hatching of the Heart

Today the 4’s made scrambled eggs.

Each took a turn to crack a shell,

and each one of the group of twelve

did it just the same:

grasped the egg

in one hot hand, not gingerly,

but with a grip that would have

crushed it,

smearing egg and bits of shell

all over palms and shirts,

had the teacher not explained

how to hold it carefully

between the fingertips;

raised that hand

to whack the egg against the bowl

with force that would have

shattered it,

spraying egg and bits of shell

all over cheeks and hair,

had the teacher not explained

how to tap assertively

but gently on the rim;

laid both thumbs

against the break, preparing to release

it with a squeeze that would have

smashed it,

dripping egg and bits of shell

all over shoes and floor,

had the teacher not explained

how to pry the jagged halves

apart with one swift pull.

When all the eggs were in the bowl,

the tricky part was done.

Not one of a dozen children

had trouble with the whisk,

with beating all twelve eggs into

one deep yellow froth.

Today the 4’s ate scrambled eggs,

and every one insisted:

they liked the crunchy bits the best.

Heidi Mordhorst 2000
all rights reserved

And I can't let this post go by without mentioning my very favorite Valentine's Day story and possibly my favorite Eileen Spinelli work, Somebody Loves You, Mr. Hatch.  If you don't know this book, run right out and get a copy today. And look what I found!

Let's see what's hatCHing out of you today!  It should be a busy day over at Reading to the Core with Catherine.  See you there!

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Oh, we have some great work popping out here!

First, Charles writes small but perfectly formed:

HAPPY BORN DAY

Baby chicks hatch out

Of oval cocoon to shimmy

In sunshine’s happiness.

(c) Charles Waters 2015 all rights reserved.

Nest I mean next, from Diane a whole sensory adventure in 13 lines:

Through the Bathroom Window

The nest appeared
seemingly overnight.
The number of eggs
was never determined.
Before we knew it
the chicks had hatched,
fledged, and left us.
Two weeks--fourteen
days was all it took 
for them to fly away.
Barely long enough
to learn how to focus
our eyes and ears.

Mary Lee's is an ode to what mothers give up to propagate the species:

SACRIFICE

How does
the buzzing
hummingbird
sit still enough to hatch

the two
(not three)
(size of a pea)
eggs that are in her batch?


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2015

Donna gives clues that she may once have been a poultry owner.  I love the way the queen's train becomes a scurrying column of chicks!

Rhode Island Queen

Dipping her head to the ground
the old queen nods 
to her subjects
this way 
and that
her long train
flowing behind
undulating 
over the ground -
my old red hen
whom I thought was lost
has returned again
from sitting
on a hidden nest
waiting
feeling
for just the right moment
for them to
hatch;
as she nears
her
undulating train
becomes a scurrying 
fuzzy, feather quilt of chicks
blanketing her bare
toes.

©Donna JT Smith, 2015

Kate's extended metaphor is just "write" for those of us who are brooding this month, trying to hatch a new poem every day:

Hatching

The breaking out,
bit by bit.
Sharp-clawed toe,
beak and head.
The newest new,
wet wonder of it.
And when it’s through,
body still unsteady,
can’t walk yet,
not quite ready.
Page is quiet,
words there shiver.
New ideas
all aquiver.
Not yet able, can’t quite roam.
Still a baby,
new-hatched poem.

—Kate Coombs, 2015

Joy stops in with an ostriCH egg:

HATCHING

Said the baby bird
to the ostrich egg
"Let me out.
Please, I beg."

A crack with my beak
it starts to catch.
My special tooth
helps me hatch.
  --Joy Acey

Jone shares what feels like a blessing, inviting the newly hatching season:

let spring hatch
let songbirds arrive
and wake us
by their song
let tulips bloom and frogs croak
love songs for us all.

© 2015 Jone Rush MacCulloch 
all rights reserved  

And Matt stops by with a haiku on birdly intellect:

Albumen-soaked
hatchling, too young
to wonder
 
--Matt Forrest Esenwine

And Carol triples her bird-count with this piece, which I have taken the liberty of titling:

A Golden Plan

It's time to hatch a golden plan,

not with silly green eggs and ham.

Try poetry and photos - Shazam! -

an artistic venture of grand purport

to stretch imaginations and transport

minds to wander, recalling winter bliss

while not thinking of wind's bitter kiss.

Indeed!

Winter entered with quite a roar, held court,

and listened intently to many a loud retort. 

Now, it transitions to yet another spring.

When will I hear the sweet robin sing?

--Carol Varsalona   

  Looking forward to more!  Feel free to join the egg toss today!