If I knew what poets know,
Would I write a rhyme
Of the buds that never blow
In the summer-time?
Would I sing of golden seeds
Springing up in ironweeds?
And of rain-drops turned to snow,
If I knew what poets know?

So I have returned to Indiana...to my home..to the House at White Picket
Gardens..to my school..to my family...to my friends. It has been a difficult two
weeks of adjustment..trading sand for grass..seashores for corn fields...bikes
for cars...togetherness for aloneness.

It is cooler here and greener. Today I sit on my front porch with jeans and
a sweatshirt...drizzle and gray skies are abundant..I feel strong and
confident that I can make this switch..that I can return to this life..but the fact is
I cry alot.

Oh, don't get me wrong, I love everything I came home too. Mom and Dad were
still here for a week and we had the most wonderful time. I think they fell
in love with the house and the quietness and quaintness of it all as much as I
have. They had hidden porcelain Harlequin dolls all over the house (8 to be
exact!!) What fun I had finding them all..Dad thought it would cheer me up. I
found other treasures after they had left. We spent time at Shipshewanna, we
talked alot, they made me feel so loved. They just had their wedding
anniversary of 56 years yesterday, and they know much about love. Thank you for being
here, Mom and Dad.

My sister, Jo, picked me up from the airport, fed me dinner, tucked me into
her guest room with teddy bears and conversation...mostly she listened to me.

Adam and Tonya were around for a while also...time enough for a cookout, card
games and more conversation. Aaron and Karen and Matthew have just moved to
Indiana and are living in the old farm house. It is certainly interesting
getting reacquainted and learning to love little Matthew (he is three and calls
me "Annie") They have kept me busy cooking.

My friends have all been over...book club, best friends...calls from
neighbors to walk. Keep busy, keep moving, don't stop, if I don't take time to think
it will all be fine...just fine. But the fact is...I have to stop..and I have
to think.

Did I know what poets do,
Would I sing a song
Sadder than the pigeon's coo
When the days are long?
Where I found a heart in pain,
I would make it glad again;
And the false should be the true,
Did I know what poets do?

So, for this Sunday Passage, I send out words of wisdom...if you are with
someone you love..tell them so. If you are not, then wish on a star. As for me,
it is back to teaching and storytelling and at night late you will find me
out on the stoop with a lovely glass of wine...looking up into the heavens and
wishing on a star. Much love, Lou Ann

If I knew what poets know,
I would find a theme
Sweeter than the placid flow
Of the fairest dream:
I would sing of love that lives
On the errors it forgives:
And the world would better grow
If I knew what poets know.
-- James Whitcomb Riley