Cold

As if to echo my sentiments entirely, Eden (7) came home from school today with a snowflake cut-out, mounted on black paper and bearing a poem she had written, in her neatest handwriting, entitled 'Cold.' I am reproducing it here with all her cute little spelling errors intact, just because I absolutely love it. This is said with full acknowledgement of my intense bias. But this is my blog, and I can post what I like on it. So there.

Cold

Cold is
Silver and white to mack a snowy pictur.
A poaler bear that stomps around.
A white igloo in the North Pole.
When you get sad you tremmble with cold nise.*
January in a cold blizzard.
A sofa, next to a ice pond with a frog on it.

[* knees, I think.]

Totally surreal and wonderful.

On another note, I am off to New York tomorrow until Thursday, so the blogging may be sparse. I nearly wasn't going, but now I am. That's another story for another post. Maybe tomorrow.