And so, a poem for the occasion:
Little orange moth
you flit from flower to weed
Six children lithely chase you
All the fun they need
One would pinch your wing off
The other makes you drown
One holds you like a crown jewel
You're both simple and profound
Come spend the summer evening
Flitting through our weeds
Please come kiss the flowers
And see our growing seeds
2 comments:
I love that poem.
You've caught the essence of our children's joy.
I wish I could have seen them playing in the dusk last night.
Thanks for capturing the moment nonetheless.
What a sweet poem!! Mama Kristine, you're gonna have your hands full, eh? :-)
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