In honor of poetry month, here’s a little story about poetry writing.
Years ago, my second oldest grandson and I were sitting at the kitchen table discussing his homework. He’s home schooled, and I’d promised his parents to work with him while he was visiting.
Like his daddy (my son), my grandson hated homework. The thought of poetry homework made the task even less appealing, especially when the swimming pool outside was calling.
He twirled his pencil and starred outside at the squirrel climbing the bird feeder. He ate a Pop Tart. He slipped away to play a game of chess with his Pepa. Next thing I knew the rascal was in the swimming pool.
I called him back to task.
Moments later, I caught him at the window. Again.
This time he watched a chameleon on the Maple tree by the kitchen window.
Before I could speak, he pointed to the laptop on the table. “I wrote the poem already.”
This is what I read on the computer screen:
Lazy lizards leap from leaf to leaf
As green as a Sprite can
Lizards like to hide under the weather
Running, hiding, and sneaking around
Crazily, hastily, and hurriedly leaving their tails behind them
The miniature lizards are tiny compared to the big, blue sky
That grandson is off to college next year. I’m sure he’s forgotten about his lizard poem. I haven’t.
I learned a lesson that day about how little boys can multi-task when you think they’re playing.