Song and Dance

Dear Miss,
she seems to say
with her gentle mews.
Dear Miss,
she croons,
as she slips through my legs,
skimming my ankles
with her silken fur.
Dear Miss,
she mews again,
I’ll happily sing and dance
for just a small turn
of the doorknob.


This is our beautiful cat, Scout. I don’t really think the name suits her, but we named her after the character in To Kill a Mockingbird before she joined our family. She’s an indoor cat, but she thinks she wants to be a hunter. We love imagining what Scout might say if she could talk. Here’s your mission, should you choose to accept it: Write a poem from an animal’s point of view. What would your pet (or some other animal) say if s/he could speak? And, how would s/he say it?

For more Poetry Friday, visit Tricia at The Miss Rumphius Effect.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved











Under the Snow

Under the snow the grass lies smooth and even.
Under the snow the road returns to the land.
Under the snow the bushes sit like stepping stones,
the trees sparkle like rock candy crystals stuck to a string.
Under the snow the picnic table rises like a baking cake,
the chairs with criss-cross bottoms offer waffles to the sky.
Under the snow the barbecue puts on a peaked stocking hat,
the flowerpots huddle like big-bellied gnomes.
Under the snow the swing wears a gleaming smile.
Under the snow our footprints disappear.


We finally got some real snow this week–enough to miss school and go sledding! My favorite thing about snow is the way it completely transforms everything.

The repetition in this poem is an example of anaphora, which was Miss Rumphius’ challenge this week.

For more Poetry Friday, visit Tara at A Teaching Life.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved

photo 1-3













Mama packs them
in my lunch
all winter long.
They burn my eyes
after so many days
of dull gray clouds.
They flare
and singe my fingers
when I tear away their skins.
In my mouth
they explode!
refreshing me with promises
of summer.


Michelle Barnes at Today’s Little Ditty sent me some sunshine this week. She nominated me for a Sunshine Award. Thanks, Michelle! I needed that. The skies have been dreadfully gray. I hope no one will mind that I decided to pass along the sunshine with the poem above.

For more Poetry Friday, visit Keri at Keri Recommends.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved











The sun comes late or not at all.
The clouds lie thick and low.
Bony fingered branches crack
in winds that sing of woe.

The earth is sealed with ruthless ice.
The daisies hide below.
The most that we can hope for is
a blossoming of snow.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved


Monday I visited Miss Rumphius and noticed that on Thanksgiving she shared Emily Dickinson’s poem “Autumn.” One look at that and I was tangling with winter. It seemed the perfect subject for a week with frigid temperatures. In St. Louis, my hometown, they had a foot of snow but here in Washington, all we had were cold winds, horrid gray skies, and poetry.

For more Poetry Friday, visit Donna at Mainely Write.