OIK Tuesday: overheard in the car

Every year at our congregation there's a holiday party between the two services, which offers kids the chance to make cards for sick kids, donate mittens to the mitten tree, roll up little goodies in crepe paper streamers that become Joy Balls intended for parents' stockings.  But you know what they head for first, don't you?  It's the graham cracker "gingerbread" house station, which gets its own whole room.

Both kids took quite a bit of time and effort over theirs this year (Duncan's being thatched with red licorice whips and then further shingled with brown M&Ms. There has been a lot of damaging weather this year and you just can't be too careful in a time of climate change), and on the way home in the car ("MOM!  Would you mind driving a little more carefully!") they commented on the less designed, less elegant approach of some fellow architects. 

"Most of them end up looking like sheds more than houses!"

***************************

Gingerbread Shed 

Four walls, flat roof

to make a lid—

built a bunker’s

all you did.

Shape is lost in

gobs of frosting.

Your hands, and arms,

and neck

need washing.

That’s no house—

it’s a gingerbread shed

to store the tools

of a sugarhead:

hersheykisseslicoricelace--

is that a froot loop on your face?

gumdropsskittlescandycanes--
your eyes say “Rush me to Insane.”

That’s no house—

it’s a gingerbread shed.

Now give me that

and go to bed.

Heidi Mordhorst 2012
DRAFT


Postscript:  Duncan pronounces this "the best thing you've written in a long time.  It rhymes and it tells the ideas in a way I can comprehend!"  I guess my campaign in defense of sensitive free verse for children is not over.