Bliss
An exercise in recognizing how good it is to be alive. In iambic tetrameter and trimeter. To the tune of "Sweet Spirits Do Surround Us Now." Sort of. My family's home, the fridge is full; No dishes in the sink. Our flat is warm, the laundry's done; There's time to sit and think. There may be more to say, but I can't think of it right now without getting somewhat sappy. At least, that's what my husband said about the next stanza that I wrote last night so I think I'll keep working on this one. Meanwhile, a little something for all those of you waiting for the next episode of Battlestar Galactica this Friday, again in iambic tetrameter and trimeter: A Cylon's not like you or me, Their spines glow in the dark. But get them on theology, And watch their conscience spark. And in trochaic tetrameter: Happy Cylons are a mystery, What they know and why they care. Number Six loves Doctor Gaius Hoping he will not despair. I have more in my notebook, but...