In praise of the wonder my sons see in the world I sing.
In praise of My Little Ponies, trampolines, pretend swords and pretend sword fights. In praise of the Greenland shark in Iceland that lives so deep underwater its meat becomes poisonous. In praise of hours of strange scribbles appearing suddenly as turtles, sharks, and ninjas. In praise of never sitting still, never being quiet, never sharing toys.
In praise of the fullness around us and the time, however short, to harvest it I sing.