Since Wednesday, I've been holding down the fort at my daughter's home, while she, her husband and their youngest son are in Canada for the Silver Sticks Hockey Tournament. Interesting times. I am always fascinated by what they are doing in school, which resulted in reading a thin hardcover book, left on a sideboard, in haste. The following two poems are my favorites, somewhat surprising coming from a ruthless, yet young, determined goalie with wisdom beyond his little boy heart.
(noding my grandson's homework)
A kid is waiting for his bus when it is not a school day,
watching all the different color cars, and no one else is coming.
He's waiting, for the bus just him.
A man is waiting for his Google account to load so he can
check his email. Once he's there he clicks, but the email
doesn't show up.
Waiting watching a clock's hour hand move for hours. The old
clock is as dusty as an old, never-used library in a small town.
A man waiting for his favorite show to come on, but it is not on
today and has to watch other bad shows that he hates watching.
And me flying around over bus stops watching one kid the
whole time. I'm seeing a man getting really angry at Google.
I'm looking in a hole in a prison watching a man staring at a
clock for hours. I also see a man watching terrible TV shows
for hours looking for his favorite show.
The wind beat me like a boxer in a ring.
Perhaps the grass will grow into a corn
maze and you will never get out.
Perhaps the trees will melt in the
ferocious thunder storm.
Perhaps the rain will yell, "Put a sock in
it because you're annoying."
Perhaps you're a little tiny egg falling
out of your nest.
from Elephants Running Over You
written and illustrated by my 10 year old grandson, posted with permission from M.P.F.