The bow/
is how/
and the right way/
to ride the ferry.
Out on a tree’d hill he stood,
walking in the buggy grass;
never caring he was that good;
never thinking to place high in his class.
‘Neath scaled hickories without effort
(it seemed), he read, wrote, studied.
With his cousins on and in X’d videos he’d cavort,
whether the paths were pulsing, dry or muddied.
He sparred with great wit and thought
as he discussed, with authors, literature.
He pondered and argued upon what he got
from reading ancient and revealed Scripture.
At last, now, as BigEP reaches a good childhood’s end,
Let us salute the brain’d heights of this Salutatorian!
How do you wake up/
your wife to view the Wolf Moon/
eclipse? Howl loudly.
When folks get drenched to/
their cores, their souls more eas’ly /
find paths to connect.
Once upon a time/
my Sunday School teacher said: /
“Shape Up!” So I did!
When you’re always wrong,/
perhaps you’ll learn to not speak,/
or check facts better.
There are times when my/
response seems trite. It’s ‘cuz I/
must do it justice.
Sad when you learn your/Some say my life was/
confusion. They never saw/
me dream, walking here.