Laura, the one child who isn't reciting anything in the speech arts part of the arts festival next week (because she's up to her eyeballs in 4H public speaking), selected this because "it makes me think of Spring":
Unicorn
by Anne Corkett
Unicorn, Unicorn,
where have you gone?
I've brought you some silver dew
out of the dawn.
I've put it in buttercups
for you to drink
and brought you some daisies
to wear round your neck.
Silver and gold
and petals so white,
these are the colours
saved from the night.
Unicorn, Unicorn,
where have you gone?
I've brought you nine sunbeams
to wear for a crown
and made you a blanket
of new thistledown
embroidered with lilies --
O where have you gone?
Unicorn, Unicorn,
I can't stay long.
Petals so white
and silver and gold,
these are the colours
that never grow old.
From Til All the Stars Have Fallen: Canadian Poems for Children, selected by David Booth (author of Even Hockey Players Read) and illustrated by Kady MacDonald Denton, recently available in paperback as a Scholastic school book club edition, perfect for handing out to your nieces, nephews, and children's friends who need some more Canadian children's poetry in their lives.
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My own kids have had a bit more trauma than poetry in their lives this past week. First, Laura's voice teacher almost ended her festival season before it started, thinking to yank her because, having left it too long, he couldn't find an accompanist for her. Tuesday evening, after class, after had he told her (in costume as mini Maria in "The Sound of Music") that he'd be making the call in the morning to pull her out, her face quivered and her shoulders sagged but she was stoic, I made phone calls as I made supper, and finally located an acquaintance who agreed to give it a try. They rehearse together this afternoon before art class. "I Have Confidence", indeed.
Daniel's trauma involved a trip to the hospital the other afternoon for a stitch near his right eye, and I was as surprised as anyone to learn that it didn't happen during the boys' two-hour outdoor hockey game on ice and concrete. The doctor on call at the emergency room, a genial and capable young man, a locum on loan to our little hospital from Edmonton, in turn was surprised to learn he didn't need to talk me into a suture. I explained that this was the fifth occasion for stitches between the three kids (though two of the three occasions never received them -- one incident overseas with a very small nose was treated by Tom with tape to avoid a larger scar, and a two-year-old's thumb, the one that was nearly cut off, was neatly mended with magic purple glue at the doctor's suggestion) -- and I don't drive into town just before suppertime (especially when there's a roast in the oven) unless it's for something I can't manage on my own. And I draw the line, for now at least, at stitching up my own kids.
But all trauma has been forgotten while enjoying the first DVD in The Mr. Wizard's World collection from Zip.ca. The kids are entranced with Mr. Wizard's version of a volcano, which involves not namby-pamby vinegar and baking soda but a match and a fuse. Which I suppose sounds like a recipe for some more home doctoring.
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Liz at A Chair, A Fireplace & A Tea Cozy has the Poetry Friday/Saturday roundup, not to mention a passionate Celtic love story, for the week -- thanks, Liz!
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