Writer Crews

Today I had the extreme honor of listening to third graders read their fictional stories. And I loved every minute of FBI baby brothers, Giant BFF's, and talking teddy bears. During one such conference I took pause - to marvel at the power of one sentence in the hands of a child. The boy was still writing his story but would occasionally stop to read aloud to me. He stopped reading mid-sentence at one point and began writing frantically, only taking a moment to fill me in, "He doesn't get back to earth with this sentence, but he does escape from the alien monster." I just smiled back, because where did that alien come from? Last I'd read with him, a few minutes prior, there was only a rabbit riding on the back of an electronic magical horse. Wow, that's one sentence. A sentence in the hands of a child, holds the potential of all things created - and yet to be imagined. A sentence in the hands of a child, is putty for little Gods - building new worl

Death is only part of life. I know this So how can it shock me We were all here just a minute ago Complete, the circle of my family Time was counting down our bliss Death is only a part of life We know this The black cloud on the horizon Didn’t come in the order presumed It struck around - a chaotic tornado, ripping away our young The old were ready, the adults resigned The children, they were our protected Death was to meet with us first - our song had been sung His song Was on the tip of his tongue Death is only a part of life. Why did I believe it would care of our strife When great waves wash away a great many more Then earthquakes, floods and war Still The children should be last A selfish plea to the universe Take us all as I know you must But leave our children behind us