I heard that poetry is going extinct,
government data shows, a Friday
afternoon tweet to end the week.

But I wonder if they heard
the darling little bird outside my
window before dawn,
it’s featherweight held bravely
by budding branch, itself
tweeting an arrival that returns
without fail in creamsicle
goodness each day.

I wonder if they heard
my first graders who listen to
Dickinson and Guthrie,
Williams and Hughes
as they place their chewed pencils,
erasers gone for the use,
on lined paper almost too
narrow to hold their words.

            I have made a erath
            today. It looks pride qute.
            I wote wrds.

 I know what he means.

            I have made an earth
            today. It looks pretty quiet.
            I wrote words.

Or, I wonder if they heard her,

            owl owl come
            I love you you love
            me hoooooo said
            owl I am a girl said
            the owl I follow the
            forest I love the hooooo
            I follow the village and
            I follow my self I love
            the forest forest and
            I love my self the
            people say I am a
            gorgeous white owl
            I love when people
            say I am a gorgeous
            white owl I just follow
            my heart people follow my
            heart I say to the people
            hooooo they say
            I love owls they say
            I will follow your heart

I heard someone tweet today
that poetry is going extinct.

I wonder where they heard that.

.

.

.

Author’s Note:

NaPoWriMo Day 24. I did not use the prompt today. A tweet at the end of the school day caught my attention instead.

According to government data, as reported by the Washington Post, poetry is going extinct.

Not in my life. Sorry. Data, whether in standardized assessment in the schools or studies funded by who knows what, only tells a tip of a story.

There is more. There is always so much more.