Sleep

The sleep of a laboring man is sweet.

Forgive a brief poem

To Songs unsung, I Hum

A poem never read
was one I thought I heard

though soon the sound escaped me,
it left me still disturbed.

A poem never written
was one I longed to hear -

yet on, the page stared blankly
at the words that stood so near.

A poem never realized
may seem an unclear thing

without a phrase definative
just a voice re-echoing.

A song to me familiar
while all the lyrics hide

I welcome and attempt the tune
of a melody deep inside.

Billy Budd

Just a brief recommendation: Billy Budd is a good book. In the book, the title character is described as having a certain personal grace, with strong overtones of innocence. I note gratefully that I have known people I would describe as having similar qualities. And similar to the story, I have known people who could not stand these qualities.

May I meet more Billy Budds.

To Dream perchance to Sleep

Sleep. Macbeth doth murder sleep - or was it those Excedrin.

I believe I have lost any caffeine insensitivity I may have once had.

Not yet.

My wife asked me if I had done a certain task.

I told her, "Nope, not yet".

She responded, "I think I will put that on your tombstone".

Ouch.

Here's to earning another epitaph.

The Tree House

A tree house it is!

We wanted something more for the kids to do outside. We decided on a tree house.

My son wanted a trapdoor, and the authority to keep his sisters out. (We agreed on the trapdoor).

My daughters, especially the youngest, wanted a slide. How about a fast one?

Grandma K had given us a cargo net.

My wife wanted the patio shelf/barrier/why-did-they-put-that-there-thing gone. Some of the wood could be reused.

Dad always needs another project.

And, of course, we already had the tree.

So, a few hours (plus a few hours more), and the consulting designers, chief helpers, and final arbiters get a chance to try it out. I think I see smiles.

Soccer Saturday

Today was a soccer Saturday. My son's game was first at 9:00. Then our daughter had two games, one right after the other. I get a kick watching my children play. By the end, my voice was hoarse. It is normal for me to be one of those cheering parents, but this year I have the added excuse of being the coach.

Important coaching words: To the goalie: "You can pick up the ball. Use your hands." To a forward: "No, we're going the other way".

I shared right in the joy of the team when they scored, especially my daughter's team's first goal -they had had a tough time last week, being on the less pleasant side of an 11 nothing game.

But of course for the the players the treat still appeared to be the highlight of the day!