“June’s Mission”

Over the course of this last year or so, I’ve shifted to dancing throughout our home for a thirty-minute exercise routine. Some days, I’ve asked Siri to start an indoor walk and done loops around larger stores and our local mall, which contains unique specialty stores along with larger chains and offers a fun route. Occasionally, I’ve ventured to the park, which was closed for months on end when all of the parking lots got repaved. Last year’s July’s flood and its scars on our neighborhood have receded, but other losses make strolling on one street too hard. 

It slowly dawned on me that I no longer feel unease for missing my longer outdoor walks. Although both of my knees can handle our neighborhood’s small hills, I felt no guilt for missing the long walk challenge since I almost never missed closing my exercise ring with other activities.The journey to and from the park on Saturday convinced me that I need to focus on this longer walk, and other sweeps through our neighborhood, again. 

For this next month, I set the challenge of trekking at least a mile each morning. I must to return to that mind space where missing my walk tinges my day with a shade of guilt. The routine and ritual, lost to me because it was easy to slip into tricking myself into believing all exercise is equal has to be mentally reset.

June’s Mission proves simple—outdoor walks. If I want to add a dance to my favorite songs, or tack on an indoor walk within a shopping trip, that’s just adding flavor to the mix. A long morning spent in the yards doing gardening gets counted only after my mileage goal is met.

  Every June morning starts with a mission to pound pavement—rain or shine!

Slick sidewalks and more rain ahead!

Ditches filling up!

A little rain doesn't hurt anyone!

Copyright 2026 Elizzabeth Abrams Chapman

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"Sitting 101"

             A normal person wouldn’t need lessons in relaxation. A normal person wouldn’t have to practice the art of sitting still. A normal person wouldn’t have to hear reminders from loved ones to “take it easy” or to “just sit and do nothing.”

            I am famous for my reputation of being unable to sit and do absolutely nothing. I’ll find a rerun on television, listen to music, or grab a book as I head to the couch. I’ll find myself itching to run a dust cloth over the furniture if the TV show doesn’t capture my attention enough. I may set down the book to get a drink in the kitchen and find myself wiping down the counters one-more-time. And music? Well, sometimes I just have to get up and dance!
            So this morning I practiced sitting still. Intentionally, I headed out back without pen and journal in hand. And although I have just finished reading one novel, but I didn’t snatch the next volume from my summer reading pile. I didn’t turn on the television for background, and I didn’t switch on the stereo.
            I sat outside in one of the lounge chairs and listened to the rise and fall of child voices coming over the back fence. Their high pitched squeals mixed with the coos of doves. The breeze felt cool and the morning sun gentle.
            I lasted about fifteen minutes.
            Then the dogs wanted outside, and my foot itched, and my neck needed popping.
            Needless to say, I will have to practice this new skill daily.   
 

Where I plan on conducting my morning "class" each day!

 

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Child Play"

 

The morning song of child play  

Tumbles over the fence   

Harmonizing with cardinal and dove   

Carrying respite from responsibilities  

Whoops and hoots

Clamor and compete with wind song 

Until insistent whistles whine 

Heralding rules and regulations 

Summoning silence and structure   

As frolic and mayhem     

Form a straight line to the left 

Subdued for only a few seconds   

Until a few notes ring and ripple 

Surreptitious shoves 

Dissolve into dancing feet 

While laughter escapes around pressed lips 

And control capitulates to

Child’s play 

Copyright 2014 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman    

"Trapped"

 

In her dreams   

         she sorts laundry into piles   

         she pays her bills, and she files       

         she cooks dinner every night   

         she turns off the bedroom light   

In her dreams   

         she tops her glass with iced tea   

         she swallows effortlessly   

         she speaks words without delay   

         she finds joy in every day     

In her dreams   

         she hikes along the fence line   

         she scrambles down the incline   

         she gathers rocks and fossils   

         she walks among daffodils   

In her dreams   

         she beats her disease’s stealth   

         she holds on to youthful health   

         she falls in love at first sight   

         she dances in the moonlight   

In her dreams   

         she wins against crippling strife   

         she regains pleasure in life   

         she conquers her past’s mishaps   

         she destroys the steel-toothed trap   

In her dreams . . .     

Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

        

"The Corner of My Eye"

Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse a laughing ghost    

she morphs into my fancies      

as she alters my reality    

I sigh her name and capture her hand—   

but she vanishes into the mist of who I was     

so I release her when she smiles        

recognizing myself reflected in her twinkling eyes 
 

"Dragon" by David Chapman

Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse a noble dragon    
she sparkles with childhood jewels    

as she flies into view     

I reach out to touch her, to skip my  fingers across her scales     

but she slips out of reach      

as she beckons me to follow her flight  

back to simple pleasures
  

"Climbing Fae" by David Chapman

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse  a dancing fairy      

she glimmers with tomorrow's blessings     

as she throws a kiss my way         

I long to turn my head and follow her as I boogie along        

but she’ll vanish from sight        

so I let her tease me and entrance me all day         

listening for her breath and the whisper of her wings      

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman