The most precocious 4-year-old I know composed these lines this morning . . . well, that's my interpretation on her impromptu statement while swinging.
The beginning of her poem:
The moon follows me
The sun follows me
But she also repeated it as:
The sun, it follows me
The moon, it follows me
Who says kids can't write poetry?
* * *
I am traveling to Denver this weekend to attend the first Denver Feri training and finally meet my fellow students and the most excellent Thorn Coyle. I am just abuzz with anticipation. I am apparently very nervous, too, because I woke up with diarrhea this morning and retched into the shower for a while. I also had the recurring dream that I was taking finals to graduate from high school, but this dream is a nightmare, mostly because high school was, and I woke up crying and moaning after talking loudly in my sleep.
I am now going to take some activated charcoal to help soak up whatever nasties are in my system. I will not be ill this weekend.
I can't wait to experience a city for a change! Eeesh. Even if the city, like Phoenix, is a study in urban sprawl. Telluride, wonderful though it is, is a place you have to leave in order to avoid falling prey to the insular reality living here creates.
I have an idea my navel gazing is about to become way more interesting. I may even [gasp!] begin to post about subjects other than myself.
Heigh ho, heigh ho, it's off to Denver . . . .
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