Friday, January 06, 2006


My children are not poets.
They are the words themselves.
The carpenters whose graceful hands
explain the nail to wood
and translate wood to warmth.

Things my children have in common with one another:

1. The color of their eyes

2. The size of their feet

3. The unlimited capacity of their hearts


Michelle e o said...

Very nice Lo

Lo said...

Thank you.
It always amazes me how you can raise any number of children in the same home with the same parent and the same rules and the same amount of time and money and still they all turn out to be so different.