"A blog is to a writer what a canvas is to an artist." ~ Colleen Redman

When Poetry Comes Knocking

So I went to my yearly CPR class on Saturday with nursery rhymes on my mind.  I tried to jot them down in my notebook like I did many years ago while making fire alarms in a factory or when I worked in my friend Juniper’s bead shop.  But the CPR teacher kept quizzing us, so I didn’t have time to write, but while watching videos and answering her questions my mind was repeating half written nursery rhyme stanzas like TV commercial jingles stuck in my head.

I found myself giving dummies rescue breaths to the tune of “loose-lipped tulips passing secrets.”   Instead of repeating my CPR ABC’s (airway, breath, circulation) I was silently reciting “the boasting crocus woke us singing.” And while counting rescue breaths (30), I was remembering the ditty titled “Poet Cashier” that I taped on the bead shop cash register … It’s all I can do … not to … say “buckle my shoe” … after “One, two” … when I’m counting out the money.

I tried to stay focused on the Red Cross  “Check, Call, and Care” refrain but like Alice lost in Wonderland I was inhabiting a world where woodpeckers were telling knock knock jokes and red poppies were stopping traffic.  Who were the mocking birds mocking, I wondered, and if lilacs could talk what would they be saying?

The whole misaligned convergence made me imagine how funny life would be if bubble captions appeared over people’s heads and we could read what they were thinking but not  saying.

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Note: I provide part-time care for adults with disabilities, which is something I used to do full-time as a foster care provider and something that requires knowing CPR.

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