Thursday, April 11, 2024

Turning White, 1888


They say one becomes euphoric

just before death.


It was January, but

the flowerboxes were filling

too quickly with snow.


And Mama, at home in her armchair,

can only grab her chest,

wring her hands,


fearing delivery

of her cherished child

in reverse,


with not a lick euphoric enough

to console the freezing of her heart.



© 2024 Jennifer Wagner



For the amazing Shay’s Word Garden Word List:  Spill Simmer Falter Wither


I recently read, and took inspiration from, Ted Kooser’s book, The Blizzard Voices, which is a book of short poems based on the experiences of people living in the Great Plains during what’s known as the Children’s Blizzard of 1888.  Sadly, many children were lost trying to get home from school during the surprise storm.  My mom is from Nebraska and says they were taught about it as part of state history.  After reading about it, I dreamt of a school teacher who saved her pupils by sticking them together with Grey Poupon and marshmallows.  I can’t explain it; dreams are weird, but that is another poem. 


NPM Day 11

Sunday, April 7, 2024

Wish You Were Here


Where the saguaros gave way

to ponderosas in a clearing

in the Coconino,

it reminded me of that trip we took

to Yellowstone,


how we hung lights in the pines

around our camp—

the lights, and us,

glowing back at the open sky.


And I thought for a long time

about how everything shifts,

one way or another.


If ever any day was perfect,

it was that one,

and this one, too, almost.

Only thing missing

was you.



© 2024 Jennifer Wagner 


NaPoWriMo:  Write a poem titled “Wish You Were Here” taking inspiration from the idea of a postcard (travel, distance, sightseeing, etc.).

National Poetry Month Day 7

Thursday, April 4, 2024

Wednesday, April 3, 2024

My Miracles Use Cell Phones


One calls just because

he was thinking of me.


Another, to say he’s concerned

about someone,

is helping any way he can,

and asks if I will pray, knowing I already am.


Another to cry, to weep deep,

over children being killed in war

because it’s OK to cry with me.


Another to say, “Thank you, Mom.”


These miracles care about

making a difference.

They don’t care

about getting a better car

or better clothes.


They spend their money on groceries

for someone else,

plan trips to other countries

to do what they can to help.


Sometimes I think

the world doesn’t deserve them.

I don’t deserve them.

But that’s what the best miracles do.


They show up,

undeserved, because of love,

and make a difference.



© 2024 Jennifer Wagner



For Mary’s prompt:  Miracles


National Poetry Month:  Day 3