Friday, May 17, 2024

hayhoe, hayhoe, hasta luego

Greetings, all, on this 3rd Friday of May!  It's Climate Friday at my juicy little universe, and I'm here briefly to mention that I'm taking a little sabbatical from Poetry Friday through September 13, when I'll return as host.  I have some (like 934) writing projects that require my undivided attention.

I'm also here to recommend a weekly read that makes a big difference in my life as a
climate communicator--it's the work of another, much more educated climate communicator, Katharine Hayhoe. She has a YouTube channel and writes a Substack that I subscribe to, TALKING CLIMATE WITH KATHARINE HAYHOE, a pithy three-point bulletin with sections titled "Good News," "Not-So-Good News" and "Inspiration/What You Can Do."  It's straight talk and very empowering, and full of links if you want to know more. She also specializes in talking climate action with Christian communities.  

You can find this week's piece and subscribe yourself here. (The photo depicts people using the Local and online "climate cafés" popping up that....facilitate open, frank discussions about the climate crisis and the emotions that living in this particular moment brings up, reports Katharine. They also help like-minded people connect, collaborate, and build community so we know we’re not alone.)

Batteries made of sand?! by Katharine Hayhoe

Sand batteries, extreme Asian heat wave, and Climate Cafés

Read on Substack

I'll leave you with a poem and this quote from today's Poem-A-Day author: 

As poets, we can practice holding delicate moments, human and inhumane nuances, and consider the possible beauty in all of it. - Kay Ulanday Barrett

Thanks to Patricia for hosting us today at Reverie, and I'll see you probably not until September...Be well, all, and enjoy the summer!

Friday, May 3, 2024

a miracle exchange

May starts off with an exchange-and-respond challenge from Linda Mitchell: each of us sent off a poem to another Inkling and received a poem from another Inkling. Then, we were tasked to “Fiddle with, play with, tinker, tear-apart, be inspired or stumped by the poem.” By chance, Mary Lee and I sent poems to each other.

She sent hers first--a golden shovel with a striking line from Jane Hirschfield's “‘It is night. It is very dark.’ " I sent her a golden shovel in return, with a Mary Oliver striking line, which you can read here. Mary Lee's poem left me speechless and kind of reeling with the feeling that I'd witnessed a miracle.

To begin every day with questions

is like leaving the house without an umbrella and

choosing to ignore the dark clouds. Answers

might speckle our glasses and plaster our hair, but are

not usually delivered by lightning, not

any more dangerous than the

bone-chilling business

of walking around the park, our hands free of

holding, free of grasping, simply open to the rain.

I got to thinking about how similarly the two of us do poetry, how helpful we are to each other with critique, how our tastes overlap and enrich each other's work (and that's before considering how alike we are as teachers, despite preferring opposite ends of the elementary age range). I thought about how suprising it is that two people who, without the internet and Poetry Friday would never have met, could end up so connected. I decided to combine our two striking lines and see what would happen. Here's the outcome.

Yep, a very fun challenge! Thanks, Linda, and thank you to my friend Mary Lee.

Here’s how the other Inklings met the exchange challenge:
Linda @A Word Edgewise
Catherine @Reading to the Core
Mary Lee @A(nother) Year of Reading
Molly @Nix the Comfort Zone
Margaret @Reflections on the Teche

Thanks to Buffy Silverman for rounding us up this week!