It’s National Poetry Month, and that’s no April foolery.
Though some of the sights I’ve seen certainly seem to be. An early morning drive led me by this odd mess of a situation and left me wondering if I might in fact still be asleep. It’s been rainy, but that boat’s not budging. I wonder if it had any momentum in coming to rest there, and if it made a tremendous scraping sound or more of a dull thud. Why could I see no sign of any trailer or people pulled off alongside the road somewhere, readying themselves to solve their latest quandary, I wonder. If they return, perhaps they’ll rename their vessel Renegade. Or Roadkill.
Not to be outdone, my pizza leapt from my steady grasp to its death below in the crevice of the oven door, but not before splaying its presumably tasty contents upon the oven floor, whence hitting the heat, sending off the most delicious array of aromas, a tantalizing promise not to be kept. Guess that’s what I get for attempting to get by dining on the likes of “cardboard” pizza from the freezer aisle.
In keeping with the month, a little visual poetry in the form of umbrella meets tree. Perfect for employing, as this happens to be a bus stop.
And now for a little Plumpy’nut. It’s name sounds like it has potential as a punchline, but what it offers up is hardly a joke. A peanut-based paste, it serves to nourish those suffering in famine situations en masse. In recent years, my family has taken to purchasing gifts that aid others for each other. For example, X amount of money buys X amount of chickens for a village in such n’ such a country. So, a deploy of this nutty stuff was gifted to me, set and ready to reach and relieve many children.
Came across Sam-a-lamma’s sweet reminder from several years ago. She instructed me to read it daily. Said I was so awesome that it wouldn’t fit on just one sheet of paper. A top compliment, if ever. I deem it okay to brag about what’s been endorsed by a child, and that’s still no April foolery. ♦