Singing-Time, Rose Fyleman

I wake in the morning early
And always, the very first thing,
I poke out my head and I sit up in bed
And I sing and I sing and I sing.
Fay School. Image © Ellen Harasimowicz Photography 2014.Photograph by  Ellen Harasimowicz

The Beginnings of an Orchard

The Question, Karla Kuskin

People always say to me
“What do you think you’d like to be
When you grow up?”
And I say “Why,
I think I’d like to be the sky
Or be a plane or train or mouse
Or maybe a haunted house
Or something furry, rough and wild…
Or maybe I will stay a child.”

Photograph by Conor McNally

Snow, Karla Kuskin

We’ll sing snow songs
And chant snow chants
And roll in the snow
In our fat snow pants.

Photograph by Erin McNally


Just Me, Margaret Hillert

Nobody sees what I can see,
For back of my eyes there is only me.
And nobody knows how my thoughts begin,
For there’s only myself inside my skin.

Photograph by Erin McNally


Flowers, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Gorgeous flowerets in the sunlight shining,
Blossoms flaunting in the eye of day,
Tremulous leaves, with soft and silver lining,
Buds that open only to decay;

Brilliant hopes, all woven in gorgeous tissues,
Flaunting gayly in the golden light;
Large desires, with most uncertain issues,
Tender wishes, blossoming at night.


Photograph by Erin McNally

Three Things to Remember, Mary Oliver

As long as you’re dancing, you can
break the rules.
Sometimes breaking the rules is just
extending the rules.

Sometimes there are no rules.

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” -Mary Oliver


Little Things, Julia A. Carney

Little drops of water,
Little grains of sand,
Make the mighty ocean
And the beauteous land.

And the little moments,
Humble though they be,
Make the mighty ages
Of eternity.


It Was The Wind That Gave Them Life, Navajo Chant

It was the wind that gave them life.
It is the wind that comes out of our mouths now
that gives us life.
When this ceases to blow we die.
In the skin at the tips of our fingers
we see the trail of wind,
it shows us the wind blew
when our ancestors were created.

Southborough, MAPhotograph by Erin McNally