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Of course you know it’s¬†Poetry Month
but do you know that
the wonderful and
mouth-wateringly
delicious Jama Rattigan
has herded poet bloggers
in the Kidlitosphere onto
her site  this month?

Thank you, Jama!

 

(And check out my group blog,
TeachingAuthors.com!
Every Friday when we talk
poetry, poetry, poetry!)

 

I write a poem each day; during Poetry Month 2015 I’m sharing *PPPs¬†
Welcome to Poetry Month 2015!

Eli and I will be feeding you one PPP per day for Poetry Month this year. ¬†What is a PPP, you ask? ¬†A *Previously Published Poem. ¬†I have so many poems in so many anthologies, books and magazines, Eli thought I should snap a leash on one each day this month and give it a walk around the block. ¬†So that’s what we’re doing this year. ¬†Enjoy!

(once you click on the title of the poem to the right,
the post shows up below¬†‚Üď )

Eli thinking deep, poetic thoughts…

April 1

MY FATHER WHISTLES THE HILLS


My father was a walnut farmer, my mother was a classical concert pianist. Our 300-acre farm was in Northern California. For Mom’s career, my sister, mom and I lived in Santa Monica, California during the school year.

Daddy drove the 500 miles south to Santa Monica as often as possible throughout the year; we spent barefoot summers on the farm.

The long walnut harvest was in the fall. ¬†Every October I couldn’t wait: soon Daddy would be driving those long miles back to us.

MY FATHER WHISTLES THE HILLS
by April Halprin Wayland

In the bare light of the stars,
my father is driving home.
I am raking my hair with a comb;
my father is whistling out there.

He whistles high for the hills,
trills low for canyons.
He follows the natural notes of the land, and
the wheel moves in his hands.

While I stare into the mirror,
somewhere my father
is whistling nearer,
nearer.

This poem was previously published in the June 1998 issue of Cricket Magazine.
also in GIRL COMING IN FOR A LANDING–A Novel in Poems
by April Halprin Wayland, illustrated by Elaine Clayton (Knopf)

My farmer father and my concert pianist mother on the farm

My farmer father and my concert pianist mother on the farm

poem © 2015 April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved

3 Responses to “MY FATHER WHISTLES THE HILLS”

  1. vi none says:

    Hi April,
    thanks for sharing your poem “My father whistles the hills” was so beautiful. vi

  2. Your PPP idea is clever, April! Looking forward to reading your work all month long. =)

  3. April says:

    Vi and Bridget ~ Thank you so much for your kind words. :-)

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