It’ a lovely interview/article about the journey my new frog book took from concept to reality and introduces anyone who might know her to Kate Cosgrove, the gifted artist on the book. It also takes you to a new interview elsewhere with Kate so you can learn more about her.
AND, if you follow Kathy’s suggestions, you might be the one who wins a free signed copy of AND THE BULLFROGS SING.
Please take a minute to visit Kathy’s site and leave a comment if you’d like to have your name in the hat for the drawing.
My thanks to everyone for the many good poems this month. At last count we had 45 poems and comments under Adult W.O.M. Poems and another 13 under Young Poets W.O.M. Poems, plus those that were posted on the blog page itself. Way to go!
A special thanks to the young poets who surprised us this month by joining the fun with their own original poems. That was a special highlight for April. We hope to hear from them and other students again this and other months to come.
If you have been holding back all month telling yourself you’ll get around to writing a poem inspired by our April word, SURPRISE, today is your last chance! Let’s hear from you. If you work better under pressure, here’s your opportunity to show it.
Tomorrow the April word and all those glittering poems and words of cheer come down to make way for the word for May. Another month, another clean slate to write on. Can’t wait!
The picture of me with my first fish, which I posted yesterday on Facebook, reminded me of the poem I wrote for CONNECTING DOTS, POEMS OF MY JOURNEY, Boyds Mills Press, 2004, inspired by that picture and memory. Here they are together.
THINGS WE PRIZE
Hidden in the mountains, fed by snow,
The lake was small. We stayed there every year
And got to know our neighbors camping near
In tents like toadstools growing in a row.
I found a secret pool, a little nook
Where I could lie and watch the fish below
But no amount of coaxing made them go
For worms, or bits of bacon on my hook.
At last a fish too hungry to be wise
Took my bait so hard its body shook.
“A fish!” I cried. “Big enough to cook!”
I held it high to show its mighty size.
Even though the lake is far away
I remember posing with my prize
And grinning at our neighbors’ happy cries
Just as though it happened yesterday.
I’ve caught some bigger fish but this is clear,
They’ll never match the thrill I felt that day.
No matter what those larger trophies weigh
The first fish will always be most dear.
(c) 2004 David L. Harrison, all rights reserved