Picking Apples with DADDY
Do you know what day it is? I can’t believe it’s here! I’m picking apples with Daddy today, Just like we do each year. Put on pants and socks and shoes, Stand on tippy toes. Button up my favorite coat, Kisses on the nose. Chilly in the morning air, Smell of spice and rain. Stop to watch the leaves swirl ‘round A twirling weather vane. Finally reach the apple orchard, Rows and rows of trees. Harvest Hill: Pick Your Own “Two big baskets, please!” Green ones are too sour for me, For pie they are just right. Red ones are so sweet and crisp, Have to sneak a bite. I can see a lovely apple, All the way up there. Daddy holds me to the sky, We make the perfect pair. Baskets heavy, sleepy eyes, Sun is dipping low. Daddy lifts me on his shoulders, As we turn to go. What’s my favorite kind of apple? Well, you might have guessed… Apples I picked with my Daddy Taste the very best!
Henry Hyena, ? Why Won’t You Laugh
A funny thing happened today at the zoo. Young Henry Hyena began to feel blue.
Oh Dr. Long, you must think me a fool. I failed to laugh at a hiccuping mule.”
Now this kind of thing is really quite rare for hyenas always laugh without care.
“Henry my boy,” said the wise old giraffe. “Let me explain why it is you won’t laugh.
They laugh at the monkeys who swing from the trees. They laugh at the storks and their wobbly knees.
It’s not that you’re sick and you’re far from a fool. You’ve just learned that laughing at others is cruel.
They giggle whenever a bird says “chirp.” They roar when they hear an elephant burp.
I’ve seen how your friends all play pranks and poke fun. They laugh and they point and they tease everyone.
Hyenas just laugh because that’s what they do. They laugh at anyone who lives at the zoo.
Those kinds of games are ones no one should play, and you my dear boy, have learned that today.
But not young Henry. At least not today. His friends couldn’t even get him to play.
I’m proud of you Henry, so cheer up and grin. Your laugh will come out when the kind jokes begin.”
He didn’t join in while they teased a few bears. He declined to take part in chasing some hares.
Henry’s face brightened and his smile soon returned, then back home he raced to explain what he learned.
He wouldn’t splash mud. He wouldn’t throw rocks. He wouldn’t paint stripes on three sleeping crocs.
His friends gathered ‘round and soon all agreed that Henry Hyena was quite right indeed.
No matter the prank, Henry just wouldn’t laugh. It was time to seek help from a wise old giraffe.
So off they all went to try something new– to become the nicest ones at the zoo.
Now for all the problems there were at the zoo, Dr. Long was the one who knew what to do.
They brought honey muffins to each of the bears. They played leap frog with the crocs and the hares.
He gave speaking lessons to several shy parrots. He worked with a bunny who wouldn’t eat carrots.
They sang with the birds and read to the boars. They helped the monkeys complete all their chores.
Why just this past week he sat in the sun and coached a cheetah that hated to run.
They did all these things and saw right away... being nice was really the best way to play.
“Dr. Long,” Henry said, “my giggle is gone. I can’t seem to laugh. I don’t know what’s wrong.
Young Henry joined in and smiled with delight as all of the animals joked through the night.
Like today when a goat tripped on a limb, rather than laugh, I felt sorry for him.
They had so much fun and before it was through, Henry’s laugh was the loudest of all at the zoo.
And later when the zebra let out a yelp, instead of chuckling, I offered to help.
MY OWN MOON If I had my own moon, I would need my own sky, all starry and twinkled, so bright and so high.
Read all about it! the papers would say. Fly off to the moon, for a moon holiday!
I would gather my friends and with a loud cheer, we would zoom, zoom, zoom through the atmosphere!
Or maybe … I’d visit my moon all alone, no parties or dancing, no games and no phone.
We’d whir past the treetops, and hot air balloons, wave goodbye to the clouds on our way to my moon.
All by myself, I would have time to think, curl up in a crater, with snacks and a drink.
No need for spacesuits, or helmets to wear. My kind of moon, would have plenty of air!
I could watch the stars glitter, count millions or more, write poems in moon dust, be still, or explore.
Moon Party dancing, and Moon Party glee, moon tunes and moon pies, whoo-hoo and whoopee!
I’d probably doodle, daydream and wonder, what all of my friends were doing down under.
Confetti and bubbles in moon celebration. My friends would all love their lunar vacation.
Dilemma, dilemma, I hear myself groan. Friends on my moon, Or me there alone?
Then, with stars in our eyes and dust on our shoes, we would blast back to earth with all our moon news.
I just can’t decide which would be the most fun, so for now, I will dance