(Sing it.) Yesterday’s gone. yesterday’s gone.
On Fridays, we head down to Mr. Ryan’s for wood carving lessons, only this time the lesson ended by catching polywogs.
We had blue skies.
We waded in pond water with our pants rolled up.
We had mudy-sand between our toes.
We splashed a net around and caught “jiggle-tails”
We squealed when we had to add pond scum to our Mason Jar.
We had a perfect day.
Ever notice that these usually follow those, “horrible, no-good, very, bad days?”
I’m sure it has nothing to do with my Hunni’s (and friends) prayers.
(He checked our credit card for a “ticket to Australia” purchase.)
P.S. A catalog poem is basically a list–in an artistic manner of course.