Thanks to Eastern Shore Writer's Association, on April 22, I will have my rookie reading.....

Seated at the bed Great-Great Aunt Martha used to own, I look out my front window, and wait for the snow. A rarity in southeast Virginia. The superintendent has taken away snow days. But still I wait. I have fed the birds, waxed the sled, and located my Hunters. Students have lost much during the shutdown, and now the snow day. School will be conducted virtually. Someone did not read the crowd properly. Yet, I sit and I wait. I predict many connectivity issues, a few coughs, and a fever or two. And that’s just the teachers. Nothing that a snowman and some hot chocolate can’t fix it. A 24 hour snow bug.

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Here is the blog-strong women. That's it-
Amy Klobuchar
Gabrielle Union
Kelly Krauss
​Deb Haaland
Kim Hughes
Elizabeth Parris
Amanda Gorman
Kamala Harris
Elizabeth Warren
Mary Anne Hurtado
Nancy Pelosi
AOC
Cori Bush
Serena Williams
Sue Bird
Carol Cabrera
​Stacey Abrams
Joy Reid
Joy Harjo
and on and on and on 
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I have ignored my blog and my poetry during the pandemic, just as I have abandoned a thousand other tasks and items. The pandemic came when I, along with my family, were still reeling from the unexpected death of my father. Many people became very  productive in March of 2020, but our one burst of busyness resulted in a few "Marie Kondoed" closets and a half-clean garage.

I miss my extended family and work family, teaching face-to-face, and travel. I am a huge fan of a long weekend adventure. I did immerse myself into the election and watched some college football. But, I miss being in "Death Valley" in Clemson, SC on game day.

One way in which the House on Greenbrier has been surviving, has been to ignore tradition. Nothing is the same now, but if you have control over the change, you can gain a sense of power. We observed the Thanksgiving meal with my mother early, and we eschewed the traditional turkey for ham. Then at the Krauss house we had a delicious roast duck for Thanksgiving.  For Christmas, we have chosen to not have a live Christmas tree, as we have done forever. Instead, the most beautiful, gawdy, and bold white tree sits in our livingroom. 

Being a poet, I will find some symbolism in this dazzling spectacle. She is my family and me. She is standing tall in all her glory proclaiming that we will get through this storm. There will be face-to-face teaching, there will be family gatherings at my mom's house, I will hang out with my work family, and as this short little blog shows-there will be writing. Stories to be told. 

My daughter mornings into the kitchen. Stands in light stratum from the back door window. When she turns, I see she is wearing a shirt inscripted with one word. Kale. I can’t escape the laughter, as I look down and point at my shirt which reads Collards. We are in the midst of a t-shirt battle, a vegetable stand-off, before the coffee is ground and rivers our lips. Hers, a gift from the boutique grocery store where she works. Mine, a token from my sweet sister; a faded green material with block letters. Hers a Kelly and script. My vegetable, a piece of my childhood. My Southerness. Steeped and sizzled in fat back and served on New Year’s Day, plated at Granny’s with homemade chow-chow, and a staple during hard times. Briny and robust. Her leaves have quercetin and kaempferol and half of the vitamin alphabet. All hail kale. Raw kale, kale pesto, kale wraps, kale chips, kale sips, and even kale dips. She is the cook in this multigenerational home. A healthy cook. Kale is revered. Has its own refrigerator drawer, a dog-eared cookbook.  Fat-back does not dare cross the threshold of this home. Does not putty the eaves and nooks with sass and Southern splatters. Collards are scarce, too. No collard wrap, spread, not on salad or bread. Collard must be content to have my memories, my faded green t-shirt. ​

As I write this, I am suffering from a wee bit of sciatica. I hate it when my body betrays me.I’ve always been healthy, so when Mother Nature knocks me on the head, to remind me of who is the boss, I pout for a bit. It has been an usual week filled with highs and lows, but upon reflection of the past seven days, I notice that for me it has been a week filled with strong women, and yes that includes, Mother Nature with her crazy winds, rain, and reminder to me.
Shakira kicked off the week with a nod to her Lebanese and Columbian cultures in the Super Bowl half-time performance. In a show filled with violinists, a Champeta dance, and the “controversial”(to the buttoned-up way too tight and uninformed), amazingly beautiful zaghrouta. She defines what a strong, intelligent, and passionate woman can be in less than ten minutes. If you have time checkout her # ChampetaChallenge on Instagram. 
As a mother, I find much to be proud of in my strong daughter, who despite working full-time, has returned to school to get her Masters. She is wise, hard-working, and incredibly funny. I am honored to have old friends such as Carol Cabrera and Kim Hughes, to reach out via text, and new friend/colleague Kasey Elliott to vent to when I’m fed up with work. These strong women impact young people daily. They literally change the world.
On Thursday, Christina Koch returned to Earth after 11 months aboard the International Space Station. Her accomplishment will go down in history, and she has also become the envy of “no peopling” people all over the world. 
I want to honor Nancy Pelosi. I actually want to embrace and kiss her, but she’s too dignified for that. And despite what appalled conservatives are saying, she is dignified. She politely and neatly, did what every intelligent woman in America has wanted to do at least once(and probably more) to a man-splainer...she shut down a racist, ignorant, bullying, child haring, self-serving, lying, cheating man by shredding his “manifesto of mistruths”. 
Lastly, I would like to mention Amy Klobuchar. If you have not decided on a Democratic candidate, please consider her. She has a winning record, Midwestern common sense, and the chutzpah to stand up to Trump.  
I don’t have a poem for this week, but consider all of these strong women and the ones that you know, to be sonnets of power, grace, and wisdom. 

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The rain is dripping and plopping, and two of the cats have engaged in a fight that has moved through three rooms and a set of steps, so far. It’s a good day for a new blog from the crazy, cat-filled House on Greenbrier. 

I enjoy writing poems that have many layers and meanings. Additionally, I relish the idea of weaving nature throughout my poems(even my “take a stand” poems). The process becomes a brain exercise for me. But I also love college sports, especially my Clemson Tigers. Ironically enough, my most accessed/viewed poems are not my deep, thinking babies, but instead my spoetry(sports’ poetry). My first piece was published quite a few years back. The Kansas Jayhawks Athletics department, under the suggestion of Coach Bill Self, bought the poem, and have used it several times. “Rock Chalk, Jayhawk Chant” is still on the school website; featured as a screensaver. Coach Dany Herz was extremely instrumental in getting that poem recognized and entered into the world. Thanks, Coach.

Lately, I have been composing tributes to Clemson football players who have recently graduated or have left the program. These babies are under the “FanPost” section of ShakintheSouthland. They are rhymed poems of celebration for Chase Brice, Tee Higgins, and Isaiah Simmons.  The Chase Brice tribute has gotten the most traffic at twitter. Chase is a Clemson fan favorite. These pieces and fun, silly, and full of love and admiration.

So, lesson learned-take the time to write about what you enjoy and celebrate...when an idea moves you, explore it in your writing. Have a poetic Saturday! 



If you wish to peruse blogs by other poets, please visit Kelli Russell Agodon at
https://ofkells.blogspot.com/p/poetry-blogging-network-list-of-poetry.html. ​