Ode to the Toe Sucker

I pulled out my old Shel Silverstein books and I am dedicating this poem of his to Hannah as well as all those other thumb (and toe) suckers out there:)

Oh the thumb-sucker's thumb

May look wrinkled and wet

And withered, and white as the snow

But the taste of a thumb

Is the sweetest taste yet

(As only we thumb-suckers know).

As some of you know I used to write poetry... Here is one of my own- written this morning. Maybe I'll have a revival of my writing.

The Beautiful Mystery

of the ageless King

The heralds of old

join with creation and sing

so softly, so softly

that you might not hear

their enchanting voices

in the atmosphere

so loud, so loud

that you can not erase

their eternal pleadings

throughout time and space

and what will you do

when you hear their voice

will you try to hide from the awesome force?

will you try to pretend that you can not hear?

hoping that it won't interfere

with your plans, with your life,

with this age and terrain

you block out the One

that you don't want to reign

or will you join

the kingdom's quiet plea

and give up your heart

to this Mystery

before this age ceases to exist

and there is no more

resistance