The Army of Morning Dew-Drops has a tradition
Of concealing midnight tear survivors
Hiding them scattered through the ranks
Tears quietly referred to only as “Salty Cadets”
Rank upon rank, and row upon row
Every drop glistens and gleams as the garrison musters for dawn
The Generalissimo turns a saline blind eye
My wife and I took our grandson to another five year old’s birthday party. Our main job was to say “Hello, thank you” and “Goodbye, thank you”. For this we would each be paid a piece of cake. Also we would be our grandson’s on call adults if needed (which we were not). Our hosts were welcoming and very gracious. They had planned many fun games and activities. A great deal of thought and work had gone into the event.
The party was outside and moved along at a fast pace that was perfect for a group of eleven excited boys who wanted to run and play.
The Birthday Boy’s two older brothers coordinated the games and entertainment. They were good sports about helping out with the younger kids. The boys attacked the piñata
not only with bamboo poles but with Super Soakers as well, which I had never seen done before. When it was time to completely demolish the piñata I noticed one boy was wearing a John Coltrane shirt. An unusual choice for someone so young. I sought my wife’s hand, gave it a squeeze, and thought of our grandson, and two grand daughters. Then Coltrane came back, A love Supreme.