Imagine the Possibilities

It’s Poetry Friday!

I think of summer as a time to slow down a bit, notice more, fill the well of ideas. I’m trying to be more appreciative of nature’s treasures. Sometimes it’s a flower that just happened to pop up, sometimes a new bird at the feeder. A few weeks ago, it was some spiders who paid me a visit. Three different locations, but all in the same day.

Spider Encounters

A tiny yellow spider crawled
from the cut zinnias.
I marveled at its color,
then returned it to nature,
hoping it finds its way.

Another, this one brown,
explored the basil, then
looked up, greeting me
as if it wanted to converse.

But the most glorious sight of all
was not the spider itself,
but the dew-spangled web
attached to the bluebird box.

Gifts of nature,
all sizes, shapes, and colors –
a mirror of our world.
Draft, 2026RoseCappelli

This photo was taken during my round of checking bluebird bozes at Longwood Gardens. You might have to zoom in to see the web hanging on the side. No bluebird nest or eggs, but a wonder of nature nonetheless.

Jill has the roundup here today! Be sure to stop by to learn how to make a zine and for lots of poetry goodness.

Welcome to Poetry Friday!

When I realized that Friday was July 3, I decided to pull up a poem I wrote some months ago while working on poems about light. I remember carefully lighting sparklers with my kids when they were small and seeing the wonder in their eyes. But I worried about the safety aspect of posting a poem about kids and sparklers. My kids had just as much fun with glow sticks, so I revised it.

The poem is in the form of a Choka – the odd numbered lines have 5 syllables, and the even numbered lines have 7 syllables. The poem ends with two 7 syllable lines.

On the Fourth of July

After the parade,
corn on the cob, hot dogs, and
Mom’s sweet apple pie,
my brother and I wrap our
fists around glow sticks.
They bend. Snap! Releasing the
energy of light,
our eyes radiating joy—
summer’s twilight fiesta!
Draft, 2026RoseCappelli

I hope all of you who celebrate the 4th have a safe and joyous celebration! This year is a tough one with so many worrisome things happening in our country. But hopefully we can find the light that will help see us through another 250 years.

Michelle has the roundup today with a powerful post filled with art, song, and rousing words at More Art 4 All. Be sure to stop by for lots of poetry goodness.

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

It’s Poetry Friday!

I’ve been in a summer slump of sorts. New ideas are hard to come by, or maybe they are rushing by so fast I can’t catch them. A couple of weeks ago I suddenly realized it was my turn to choose a prompt for my poetry group. I panicked (just a little), then happily found the perfect prompt from my friend Mona. On her blog post When I Am a Poetry Box, she challenged readers to write a poem related to sandcastles. Seemed perfect for a day in June, so I offered it to my group, too. Thank you, Mona.

Photo from Pixabay

Down by the Sea

Down by the sea,
just you and just me,
digging and sculpting—
Oh, what will it be?

A home for a turtle?
A castle and moat?
A tunnel for ghost crabs?
A dock for a boat?

Whatever we make
in the sand by the sea,
we’ll stuff it with stories
from you and from me.
Draft, @RoseCappelli2026

The very talented Buffy Silverman has the round up today at her blog where she introduces us to the Queen of the Prairie. Be sure to stop by for lots of poetry goodness.

It was summer. The wind blew
away from me, and I stayed here thinking
about a certain mountain. Things got green
then forgot, and in their forgetting
remembered everything that was not
grass, or me.
-from “It Was Summer. The Wind Blew” by Matthew Zapruder

It’s Poetry Friday!

This spring my poetry group, the Nevermores, read (or reread) You Are Here: Poetry in the Natural World edited by Ada Limón. Kim recently chose one of the poems from that collection, “It Was Summer. The Wind Blew” by Matthew Zapruder, for our weekly prompt.

The task was to “Write something in a similar style, or write a response, or pick a line to use as your title or strike line.” Although Zapruder’s poem is about events experienced between a father and son, the line “Each day was that same sweet holiday that never ended” jumped out at me, reminding me of carefree summers spent as a child.

School is beginning to wind down here in PA and is already over for the summer in many parts of the country. So today I offer you

As School Dismissed for the Summer
(inspired by “It Was Summer. The Wind Blew” by Matthew Zapruder)

We forgot everything we knew
about saddle shoes
and sitting in rows.

We rode our bikes to the playground
after parting with precious pennies
for jawbreakers and Mary Janes.

We whiled away afternoons
tossing jacks on the front stoop—
the sides of our hands rubbed raw.

We searched basements
for old mayonnaise jars,
perfect for lightning bugs.

The porch glider became a boat,
the backyard a meadow,
the tar roof a beach.

We swapped Archie comics,
borrowed Nancy Drew mysteries,
created stories in tablets stashed under beds.

Each day was that same sweet holiday that never ended
until it was time, once again,
to remember.

Linda has the roundup today at A Word Edgewise where she offers quotes about childhood to welcome summer. Be sure to stop by for lots of poetry goodness.

I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind
That I put down in words
How wonderful life is
With you in the world.
from “Your Song”- music by Elton John, lyrics by Bernie Taupin

Yesterday was my 49th wedding anniversary. An almost-traditional milestone year and certainly something to shout out. Not everyone gets to spend the rest of their life with their best friend, but I got lucky.

I’m an early riser, sneaking out of bed, usually before dawn, to make my way to my office (formerly my son’s bedroom) for some morning writing. I love the quiet of the house, greeting the new day with the birds, getting lost in some poems or a section of the book I’m reading, and maybe even finding inspiration. When Allan gets up, if he senses that I might be there a while longer, he brings me a cup of coffee, my first of the day. It’s a ritual I cherish, this kindness that needs no words. One day last week as I cupped my hands around the warm mug, these lines came to me:

As I Drink My Morning Coffee

my hands cup the mug,

feel the warmth
soothing the ache
in fingers that remember
lacing through,
curling around,
holding yours
through the years…

and still
Draft, 2026Rose Cappelli

Mary Lee has the roundup today at A(nother) Year of Reading where she is preparing for a summer potluck, and we’re invited! Be sure to stop by for lots of poetry fun.