Today I was walking with Dangerboy when he exclaimed, "Flowers. Purple." Sure enough, there they were. He saw more, pointing at each stalk, saying "Purple, purple." His first color.
And when I bumped my head this morning, he reached his arms toward me until I picked him up, and then he rubbed my head for me, and kissed it better. And it worked!
Here is a poem I like.
Lying In A Hammock At William Duffy's Farm In Pine Island, Minnesota
by James Wright
Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
blowing like a leaf in green shadow.
Down the ravine behind the empty house,
The cowbells follow one another
Into the distances of the afternoon.
To my right,
In a field of sunlight between two pines,
The droppings of last year's horses
Blaze up into golden stones.
I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.
A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.
I have wasted my life.
by James Wright
Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
blowing like a leaf in green shadow.
Down the ravine behind the empty house,
The cowbells follow one another
Into the distances of the afternoon.
To my right,
In a field of sunlight between two pines,
The droppings of last year's horses
Blaze up into golden stones.
I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.
A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.
I have wasted my life.
2 comments:
I love that poem. And the cute Caleb story. Thanks for sharing.
I want a hammock to lay on on my porch. Maybe I will buy one this year!!
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