




My Slices of Life from now on will be at my new WordPress hosted site here.
It is Poetry Friday, and Margaret is hosting us at Reflections on the Teche.
For fifteen years, I have blogged here at Dare to Care, hosted by Edublogs, but I made a spur of the moment decision to switch to WordPress TODAY instead of next week. Please visit my Poetry Friday post at https://mrsdkrebs.wordpress.com/2026/02/26/poetry-friday-you-are-here/
Thank you!

This past weekend was Open Write, and we wrote poems over three days. You are welcome to join us in March! Check it out here and subscribe to hear about each new prompt. Writing poems always seem to come from a slice of my life–past, present, or future. Here are the poems I wrote this weekend, with a little extra explanation about each.
I loved my great Aunt Thelma, but I purposely left her name out and kept the details about her vague in this poetic ode to her avocado tree. I wanted to write just about the thrill and joy I found in that tree. Sadly, she moved away from that house by the time I was seven. If I had begun to write about my sassy, funny, talented, and dynamic Aunt Thelma, who I had until I was 27, I probably wouldn’t have stopped. Another day I will write about the beloved owner of my beloved avocado tree. (Maybe she will be the first addition on a March Slice of Life Story Challenge idea list, which is going to be needed very soon!)
In addition, I gave myself another challenge with this poetry prompt. I have a jar of words from Georgia Heard’s January writing resource. I randomly chose ten words from the jar and added them to my ode poem. The words: branch, ember, longing, beneath, rest, release, seed, tender, hush, echo. (Oops, I just noticed I didn’t use ember. How would you get that one to fit in this poem?)
Ode to a Special Place
When we weren’t there,
we dreamed of the tiny yard
of her early 1900’s LA bungalow.
We loved her, but when we went
to her house, it was the tree,
the tree was our very reason for being.
This magical tree echoed
the avocado tree in Eden.
It filled to overflowing the small yard,
spilling over fences in all directions.
Large branches grew low to the ground
from the tremendous trunk and across
the grassless yard, then back up
making a zentangle of possibilities
for even the smallest climbers.
This tree was a sanctuary for us, and
the gods of play and avocados and adventure
blessed us with hours of devotion and rites.
We were children in awe–
at sport on the jungle gym of all creation,
at rest beneath the city-hushing canopy,
at mending mindfulness and joy.
After exploring for some time,
we clumsily began peeling avocado skin,
releasing the tender flesh,
scooping it out with our fingers,
flinging the seeds at each other.
Lovingly (while longingly awaiting our next visit),
we would say goodbye to our beloved.
Stacey Joy gave us a link to Brené Brown’s “Atlas of the Heart”, where I learned some new emotion words. The emotions I chose were borrowed from German. After watching the treatment of some Olympic athletes, like Amber Glenn when she didn’t do well in the short program, I was struck with the sad truth of schadenfreude. The emotion of schadenfreude (/ ˈʃɑːdənfrɔɪdə /; German: [ˈʃaːdn̩ˌfʁɔʏ̯də]; lit. “harm-joy”), is the experience of pleasure, joy, or self-satisfaction that comes from learning of the troubles, failures, pain, suffering, or humiliation of another.
Harm-Joy
Why did this emotion
jump out today?
Schadenfreude?
harm-joy?
Pleasure in another’s
trouble, harm or pain?
This chapter
in our history is
bringing out
the worst
in social media users,
in politicians,
in media,
in me,
in us,
in America.
It’s true, it’s bringing
out the worst in us.
But can schadenfreude be
positive? A by-product of justice?
Princes and prime ministers
fall and we do well to rejoice
in the accountability.
Yes, more accountability,
please.
Yet I look forward
to a new chapter
called freudenfreude,
joy-joy.
Recently, my husband asked me for my forgiveness for something he had said to me. I answered, “Yes. I believe in forgiveness,” so I had to write this one with the “I Believe In…” prompt:
A Tricube After An Argument
I believe in
forgiving–
you and me
the bitter
alternate
is blaming
I’ll choose to
close in love,
forgiving
Thinking ahead to National Poetry Month, in April we’ll be writing poems daily at #Verselove. Check it out here and consider joining us.

Susan Thomsen is hosting today over at her blog, Chicken Spaghetti. Susan invited us to join in her a Walt Whitman challenge. We were to start a poem with the final line of Whitman’s “Song of Myself”: “I stop somewhere waiting for you.” Read more about her challenge here. Today she shares her poem based on Whitman’s last line, a delightful winter poem of skiing, admiration, and relief.
Here is my poem, beginning with Whitman’s line of the day. This one was inspired by my new grandson.
On This Your Two-Month Birthday
I stop somewhere waiting for you
and anywhere with you is where
I want to be. I watch, as you
enchant the world with your glow.
I will wait as you grow into
that smile as wide as a ship, and
as your dimples learn to coordinate
with your wide eyes of wonder.
I stop and watch as you evolve
gently from thin and skin
into round and full,
full of your mother’s milk.
I wait while you snufflegrunt,
making your earliest words.
I am brimming with love as
I stop everywhere waiting for you.

Baby out for a walk on a seasonably warm day of 47F. They sent me a little video of his too big pajamas bouncing along with his kicks, which I’ll stop everywhere waiting for him to turn those kicks into tottering steps and then into running with the wind.

I have always considered myself on an anti-AI trajectory. I had disabled the help me write a gmail feature and the search assistant on my browser. I thought I was helping protect the environment by not using AI willynilly.
Then on Sunday, my brother shared this article with us called, “Something Big Is Happening.” My hubby read it, and passed it on to our kids. I was hesitant, but I finally read it. I found it heartbreakingly scary, like our world will never be the same, and the bad players are going to have so much power to manipulate others. I recommend reading Matt Shumer’s manifesto, if you haven’t already. (In response, Forbes published a response by Paulo Carvão here, which makes it feel less scary.)
Anyway, today, on this President’s Day, I decided to help my friend Rocio complete her petition for habeas corpus, so she can get out of her prolonged and punitive detention, which started while she was legally seeking asylum. After an hour on the application, following the really good instructions from the National Immigration Project, I needed some input to see if I did it right. After a few readings through and making small corrections, inspired by Matt Shumer, I decided to embrace AI. I chose Microsoft Copilot and first asked it (them? him? her? what are AI’s pronouns?) to review it for accuracy and effectiveness.

I’m not going to go into all the details, to be sure, for I’d be here a loooong time, if I tried. I spent about five hours today, going back and forth with my Copilot. It offered so many good suggestions and asked questions of me to dig out more information. It was very helpful for improving the petition, and I went from offering one generalized ground for Rocio’s challenge, to having three grounds that captured her case specifically. I was starting to feel good about this.
I did notice two important thing to be wary of: Copilot is overly-confident, like a mediocre white man. It will answer whatever question you have, whether it knows the answer or not. However, it is also brown-nosing. It made so many comments like, “Your petition is excellent. It is clean, factual, consistent, and persuasive. Here’s what stands out…” “great question; your instinct is correct” and “perfectly formatted and legally safe. Everything is in the correct order and ready to attach” made me feel like I was at the head of my class!
However, when I was thinking I was finished, there was one address that needed to have a copy sent to that wasn’t formatted correctly, so I asked about it. Even though previously it had told me everything was perfectly in order, now it said:

OK, I thought you would have double checked the addresses before telling me it was ready to mail. That is important to know. It was telling me lots of things were perfect that it didn’t even see or try to see. What is this about? I then went through with a fine-tooth comb and asked a lot of specific questions about names and addresses and other details that might have gotten missed. I also found a few grammatical errors it didn’t tell me about. (Though, I wonder if I would have asked it to read for only grammar, could it have been successful?)
Finally, I needed a break from the law. This week I had purchased some mushrooms and cauliflower for a recipe for some vegan Bolognese sauce that I had made once before. However, for the life of me, starting Saturday I could NOT find the recipe. I looked in Google Drive (where my cookbook is with all my recipes). It wasn’t there (or in the Drive Trash.) I searched my saved recipes on Instagram. I did a general search online and found a thousand vegan Bolognese recipes but not the one I had misplaced. So, though disappointed, today I planned to wing it.
However, since I had had AI success today, I opened a new inquiry on Copilot and asked this:

And what do you know? It found my recipe in less than two seconds:

Wow! So I got to cook with the real recipe instead of trying to remember it after only making it once before. I didn’t add pasta, so instead of pasta water I thinned it with broth. We ate it for dinner tonight on spaghetti squash. Here is the recipe, thanks to Half Baked Harvest and Copilot, in case it sounds good to you.
If this habeas petition is successful and Rocio comes home, I am going into pro bono wannabe law practice with Copilot as my partner. We’ll be helping others in her situation.
It’s Poetry Friday and Robyn Hood Black is hosting today with a haiku, new journals, and a great STEAM opportunity for your students. Thank you, Robyn!

Have you read Barbara Ras’ breathtaking prose poem: “You Can’t Have it All“? Here is an example from her poem: “You can have the touch of a single eleven-year-old finger on your cheek, waking you at one a.m. to say the hamster is back.” Sigh…I often remember and use her formula: “You can’t have it all, but you can have…”
An Analog Life
On this Valentine’s Day
you can’t have it all,
but you can have
this strip of apricity
from the skylight
on a cold winter day,
this warm tamale
brought by a neighbor
on vendor buyout duty,
these puny legs that
climb over boulders and
yet haven’t broken.
You can have this well-worn
love, so sure and steady,
so pleasantly passionate,
and you can have confidence
that Bad Bunny, Minnesota,
and we the people will save
this country.
I have been inspired this week by Marcie Atkins and her commitment to spend part of each day deliberately giving her brain analog input. It is such a great practice and I have considered it each day this week. For many reasons (not the least being my Instagram feed), it may become one of my 2026 challenges. Do you ever scroll through your social media feed and wonder what and how in the heck “those” people on “the other side” think anything different than you and your group? (For sure, it is not going to be social media that will save this country.)
My Social Media Feed
Almighty truth
Launched into my orbit.
Gained insight?
Or bolstered bias?
Reinforced rage, an
I.V. of certitude gathers
Truth for me,
Heaped into A.I. silos to
Mind my thoughts


“I’ll be there shortly. Thanks.”
I had been sound asleep. I sat up and looked at my husband. His declaration had been loud and as clear as a bell, but now he was fast asleep.
I didn’t rouse him, but I looked at my watch: 2:10 a.m. I wanted to remember what he said, so I could quiz him about it in the morning. In the dark, I penned it on the notepad I keep on my nightstand. Then I lay down and went back to sleep. Kind of.
I began wondering…did he really say, “I’ll be there shortly” or did I dream it?
Sometimes I have four o’clock in the morning questions, but last night these questions started early. I lay awake thinking about Keith talking so sensibly in his sleep, about Rocio’s appeal brief and the beginning of her eighth month in detention, about my Republican Congressman who seems happy to be neutered by this administration, about racism and misogyny at the highest levels of government, about good Bad Bunny and the joy and love he unapologetically brought to America yesterday, about the grip of fear and hatred, about the victims in the Epstein files, about…about…about…
Eventually I fell back to sleep. This morning I brought the note out to Keith and asked if he remembered saying, “I’ll be there shortly. Thanks,” in his sleep. He laughed and had no recollection.
So who knows? Did he say it? Did I dream it? Or…
Maybe it was Hope calling, like when God called to Samuel while he was sleeping.
Yes. Hope called, I’ll be there shortly!
Thanks!

Molly Hogan is hosting Poetry Friday at her blog Nix the Comfort Zone with a magical Inklings prompt.

In this Black History Month, I wanted to give witness here to James Weldon Johnson, author of this prayer poem that became known as the Black National Anthem. The anthem was written in 1900, when Jim Crow laws kept Black people segregated, without basic rights, and in danger of lynching. It is easy to read white history in the piece as well, with phrases like “chastening rod,” “blood of the slaughtered,” “weary years,” and “silent tears.” Johnson was an early civil rights activist, a leader of the NAACP, and helped develop the Harlem Renaissance.
By James Weldon Johnson
In public domain
View this post on Instagram
Fifty Years and Other Poems by James Weldon Johnson at Project Gutenberg
Meanwhile, Yesterday in America
unmarked cars
no uniforms
home depot
i.c.e. raid
two men nabbed
we’re not safe
in yucca valley
do you carry
proof of citizenship
with you?
how will we lift
every voice?