My sister Susan makes a puppet show.
That's my brother, Robert,
with the light on his face
and my brother, Richard, at the far right.
This is one of those Brownie Reflex photos,
perhaps taken by John, the oldest of the boys.
I love the shadows; I love the doll-made-puppet.
I love my family's whole messy child-filled life!
Perhaps this was taken after we moved to The Farm in 1950.
Or were we still in Scotia?
Here is a poem from a recent New Yorker:
LIT
Everyone can't
be a lamplighter.
Someone must
be the lamp,
and someone
must in bereaved
rooms sit
unfathoming what
it is to be lit.
Andrea Cohen
The New Yorker,
February 16, 2015, page 69.
Write a short poem on some formulation you have made up to sound like a proverb.
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