Posted by restorel66 on July 1, 2009
I’m ready. Toss the ball.
Grounders. Pop-up.
WATCH OUT
FOR THE BABY!
Whoa! Nice one!
Good arm! That
knocked the dust
off my mitt!
Whoops, crazy hop!
Hey, switch sides,
I’ve got sunglasses.
Get your glove up.
You throw what
I throw. Now I’ll
do a jump catch.
That’s too high!
Dad, watch this…
TRICKED YA!
You didn’t even know
I had a tennis ball.
Suppertime?! Just
one more—I mean
one of each—grounders,
pop-up, fastball.
Do we have to go in?
Okay. Hey, Dad?
When can we play
catch again?
Posted in Aesthetics, Children's Poetry, Education, Entertainment, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Relationships | Tagged: backyard, baseball, boys, catch, Dad, fastball, glove, grounder, mitt, pop-up, sons | 1 Comment »
Posted by restorel66 on December 7, 2008
The little place in the back is the
sugar shack. Behind that door we
make maple syrup. The floor is dirt.
A hole in the roof lets steam out.
It’s a maple sap-evaporating-house,
like an outdoor kitchen, but you
don’t have to wash your hands. Collect
40 gallons of sap to get one gallon of
syrup. Just boil it and boil it. Dad’s
about to get the fire lit.
He stacks up dry, fast burning sticks
and puts on heat-proof gloves. The
firebox turns roaring red, enough
to singe your hair! He shields himself
and squints when he looks in there.
As sap turns into syrup, Dad
dips a spatula to test it. An
apron on the dipper’s edge says
it is right. He puts a milk can under
the spout and lets the sweet stuff out.
Here. Take this Styrofoam cup.
Dad will let us try it. Mmmm! Can
you smell that? Come on, let’s run!
Slide back the big door! Let’s
go inside and get some!
Posted in Aesthetics, Education, Entertainment, Poem, Poems, Poetry | Tagged: Boiling off, Childhood, Dad, Maple, Maple Syrup, Sap, Spring, Sugarhouse, Sugaring, Vermont | Leave a Comment »
