Day 52: My tap dancing ostrich paper mache and also my poem about it and maybe Kimmy will like it

Well, I don't have much to report yet about the status of my friendship which deserves to be renewed since yesterday, except that I am creating a piece of paper-mache pottery in the shape of an ostrich wearing just the cutest little top hat with maybe a feather or two in it, and I'm even going to give him little tap shoes that I will make out of rocks so that they will make a loud tappy-tappy when they are thumped on the ground. And with the ostrich mache, I intend to surprise Kimmy and give it to her so that our friendship will be good as new.

But when I was laying out the plans to my ostrich tap dance paper mache friendship-inducing gift, I suddenly got a poem in my head that I created out of my own mind and wanted to share it with you, because it is just the sort of thing that one shares with one's friends.

The ostrich wore tap shoes
And wanted to tap
But he only had one thing,
One thing on his back,
Which weighed him down,
And it made him frown,
And that thing on his back
Was sadness.

So he threw off that thing,
That thing on his back,
And flung it to the sky
Then he took a nap.
And when he awoke,
He knew he'd been poked
With a stick
Or a brick
And in lickity split,
He flew off!

Well, ostriches can't fly,
But this one--he tried,
And he made from the roof to the ground.
And under that ground,
Under his head he had found
That the sadness was buried below.

So he hooked up a hose
And aimed it first at his nose,
And when he was sure that it worked,
He set it upon that ground
Where he found
The sadness,
And he killed all that dirt!

That is the end of the poem that just came to me, and I think it is not such a horrible thing to be an ostrich now and then, especially if one is a proactive ostrich and tries to get rid of one's problems in a constructive manner, such as the one in my mind-poem did, even though it appears to be an open-ended question of whether the ostrich got back to tapping or not.

Well, I am wishing you all a happy March 16 which is one day before St. Patrick's Day, except I have a suspicion that it is already St. Patty's Day, as they say, in Dreamwalker's time, which will never grow old to me, even if I become 77 years of age one day in the distant future and must needs rest upon social security in the U S of A, if such a program exists, although with the rate at which people do not like President Bush's social security program or the current program, who can tell really one way or the other.

Love,
Orchard