When you were four, or five, or six,
Before life played its grown-up tricks,
You learned a thing or two each day
That years of fuss can tuck away.
You poked a seed beneath the ground
And wondered what that speck had found…

When morning slips in with its bright little light,
Don’t drag yesterday’s worries out of the night.
Say, “Here is a day I have never yet known.
I’ll see what can blossom from seeds I have sown.”
The past may come knocking with, “Why did you choose
That word or that path? Think of all you could lose!”

When you pass by a mirror, pause there for a beat. Say, “Hello, lovely human!” to the face that you meet. It may feel quite silly. You’ll laugh at the view. But this life is unfolding and happ’ning to you…

Life doesn’t arrive in a box with a bow, with neat little labels explaining the show. It tumbles in sideways with whistles and squeaks, with glorious mornings and plumbing that leaks. Each dawn, tell your slippers, “A fresh day! Let’s start! I’ll listen more closely to what’s in my heart. Whatever comes knocking, whatever rolls through…

(Read this silly poem out loud to most fully enjoy it!) Mary McDermott McMaxwell McDuff Was asked by her teacher to spell the word tough. Because of her name, she replied “Tee-you-eff-eff,” which earned her Z-minus below treble clef. So here are some hints to help you if someone may
ask for help in spelling these troublesome words one fine day…

Does it start with a spark? Does it stop? Does it end? Is it tied with a ribbon and handed away, Or alive in each breath of an ordinary day? It says, “You may be you, in time and in space.” It makes room for each viewpoint, voice, and face…

Old Grumble McMutter met Miss Fussy McFrown, Who polished each pebble and straightened each town. He huffed at her humming. She frowned at his shoes. They argued on Tuesdays… and most Wednesdays, too…

There once was a clan of the Flibberty Flocks, Who polished their smiles and synchronized clocks. They ironed their curtains, they color-matched stew, And claimed that perfection was simply “what’s due.”

The people who irritate us most are often the unpaid teachers we never would have hired.
There once was Miss Cranklepants, Mayor of Sigh Town, Who wore her complaints like a glittering crown. “That fellow’s too noisy! That lady’s too loud! And don’t get me started on That Smirking Crowd!”

Inside your head’s a bustling town Where up is up—and down is down. A worrier waves a frantic flag, A dreamer totes a hopeful bag. A judge bangs loudly on a drum. A timid soul says, “Don’t be dumb.” A warrior growls, “Stand up and fight!” A saint insists, “Be kind. Be right.”