In keeping with the poetry theme, last week Grace was puttering in the kitchen with me one afternoon. She told me she wanted to write some poems.
“Okay, Grace. Go for it.” (invisible eye roll)
“I am going to bring this candle over here, okay?” (takes Votivo scented candle, lit, to table)
“Why?”
“I am going to look at it in a new way.”
I looked at her, puzzled, wondering at this clear verbatim repetition of something she’d heard at school. And then the wisdom of it sunk in. If only I was better able to do that.
She then looked at a lemon in a new way. Her poems are above.
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