Melinda Coppola

twenty four may | from the inside out

Melinda Coppola

twenty four may | from the inside out

About My Blog

I started this blog to quiet the voices in my head and heart that have been whispering and cajoling and sometimes yelling at me to write more.

This is a space where all the parts of me—mother, poet, wife, lover of beach stones and furry creatures and frequent toe-dipper in the river of song, Yoga practitioner, and teacher and she-who-cooks and she-who-makes-art and she-who-loves-silence, where all the parts of me can come out to play.

I started this blog to keep myself engaged in dialogue with my soul. If what I write interests you, educates you, moves you, …well, that’s a beautiful bonus.

Most Recent Blog Post

A 2022 Story, Part 7

A 2022 Story, Part 7

You can read part 6 here:


Part 7

A spark of something wonderful rose inside Little Stream as she waited for Wee Lily Pond to push her towards the banks of Big River. Hope!  There would be a way out of this soon. She could feel her friend Lily swirling, gathering strength.

“Ok, now relax,” Lily told Little. “I’m going to bump hard into your edges.”

Little Stream tried to soften. She pictured the escape plan. Lily will push. I will roll into the river bank and slosh up onto the grass. Once I find my flow, I’ll move alongside Big River and dip in to rescue Wee Lily Pond.  Little Stream could just almost see the two of them back on the safety of grassy banks!

Meanwhile, Lily Pond swished and churned. I can do this, she told herself. Her waters billowed as she pushed mightily against Little Stream, pressing her into the dirt and rocks that made up one side of the great rushing river.

“Oh!” cried Little Stream as a few drops of her waters splashed into the air and onto a boulder. “More. You need to push harder.

Lily paused for a short rest. After a few moments, she began to imagine herself large as a mighty sea, rolling smack into and under her wee friend, lifting her up, up and over the riverbank. I can, I can, I can, chanted Lily to herself. “Here we go!” she rasped aloud to Little Stream. Pushing and pressing and agitating her little round body, she whisked her waters into a froth and slammed her weight as hard as she could into Little Stream and towards the edge of the big rushing river.

A shimmery blue-green wave lifted into the sky towards the bank of Big River, cresting with a white tip. It seemed to pause mid-air before dropping all the way backwards, smacking the two friends even deeper into the center of Big River. “Oh no!”  squeaked Little Stream. Lily Pond was silent, too tired to make a sound.

Big River surged along, pulling a very sad Little Stream and an exhausted Wee Lily Pond along with it.

To Be Continued…



Read More Blog Posts

The Wisdom of Clouds

“ You are the sky. Everything else is just the weather.” Pema Chodron CIRRUS You are wisp, feet rarely touching dirt. Your gaze cannot be met. They call it lazy eye, but we know better. How could anyone expect you to hone a vision when you straddle a few different

Read More »

Prospecting for Grace

Praise The faithful sun, generously stirring energies of Earth and atmosphere, coaxing every green thing towards the rising song of spring. Parents walking with their children outside, smiling and laughing, nodding at neighbors out washing their cars. Quieted streets yielding their usual ruthless noise to melodious birdsong, squirrels rustling in

Read More »

The Uninvited Guests

What a time! We are seeing and hearing wide ranging effects of the Covid-19 pandemic on, it seems, every populated part of our planet. In our corner of the world, Bink’s autism and accompanying dependence on schedules has collided headfirst with current realities. Every activity in her life, from her

Read More »


PROPAGATION I’ve taken to humming in the produce section while caressing the plums, sneaking sniffs of the cilantro, eyeing the lemons, audacious in their yellowry. It’s a low, soothing thing, the thrum of air over vocal chords, nearly a buzz, and I am almost a bumblebee, hovering over color, circling

Read More »

Harmonious Discord

This morning I walked early, mismatched garments layered to repel a cold, spitting rain. I’d pushed his baseball cap down hard over the knitted ear band I bought to share with her, which she most emphatically rejected for not being soft enough, or pink. Featherweight Bean jacket— the one that

Read More »


BEGIN AGAIN “Our life is an apprenticeship to the truth that around every circle another can be drawn; that there is no end in nature, but every end is a beginning, and under every deep a lower deep opens.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson Begin again is the dry brush dipped

Read More »


Perched on the frost hardened bank of the wide, cold river, eyes intent on the rushing water, dark and high, I notice the greenish brown river grasses, rooted hopefully in their muddy beds, in a permanent lean as the current pulls them forward, and my eyes train between the reeds,

Read More »

Brown Girl Hair Has Left the Building

Bink loves girl hair. For the uninitiated, this translates to long straight hair hanging down, on a female of any age. Preferably, the hair should be visible equally on the right and left sides of her head. I’ve had long brown hair for 25 of my daughter’s 27 years. At

Read More »

My Bread and Butter

Hello, dear blog. Hello, faithful tribe of readers. My neglect this past month stems not from writers block, but from posting block. Yes, it’s a thing, one which might even merit capitalization. Posting Block. I have spent mornings and nights in awe of the earth’s revolutions, the comings and goings

Read More »