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Saturday, December 4, 2010

Fast Day 183 December 4 2010 {Alana's Brother}

Alana's Brother

Alana said that Robert is
a contrary child indeed!
My brother will not learn, she said
while she really wished to punch him;
he's not stupid but he's stubborn
and too much time is wasted
on texting all his friends, playing
video games and computer!
He is the Facebooking-est kid!
The child will not learn!

Her mother went to work that day
saying Alana, help your brother
with his work; he's got the lowest
grades in Heilmann Elementary!

Alana asked her grandmother
who said that's the school where your mama
went everyday with braided hair,
hair tied like cinnamon bundles!
Sweet Cassie like cassia spice!
She was a student, honey; she
shined! When she did double skip rope
she threw off scintillas of fire!
Just like you do, honey! You shine!
and just like your brother will, too.
Perhaps he is not challenged and
electronic gadgets tire him.
Oh, Gramma! said Alana.

The child will not learn! Alana
said. He'd rather talk to his friends.
He's not stupid, but I can not
teach him anything; he'd rather
play his X Box three-six-oh instead!
Can I get a new cell phone do
you think for my birthday coming up?

Honey, come and help with cookies,
and get your brother to help grind spice.
There was a gingerbread halo on
her head at the Christmas season,
and her brain buzzed with the festive
hymns of ginger, clove, and nutmeg.
Grandpa came to join the recipe,
and Aunt Susan soon stopped by, too.
Robert, fetch the molasses, please;
the kind says "New Orleans" - no other
kind will do, honey. You can't make
gingerbread men and women without
the exactly right ingredients!
A hive of buzzing bees, indulgent
of nectar goodies soon to come.

How many a sweet tooth is drawn
to the cookie sheet delights!
Aunts and uncles and cousins, too,
swarm with sugary intensity
grating ginger and the nutmeg,
grinding cinnamon brown, brown braids.
Get the Wyandotte soda, honey!
What's that, grandma? Won't baking
soda do? Get the lard or butter,
blend it all together with careful
whisks and strokes until your arms hurt!
Then take out the jingle-jangle
cookie cutters, boys and girls
to cut the rolled out carpet of
sweet ging'ry bread... then bake... and wait
and dress them with rainbow frosting,
dot their eyes and bow their smiles!

Roll out culture of the dough with
all the several spices orient;
cinnamon comes from coppiced wood
old stump and deep ancient roots
but young shoots every year to harvest...
Jump Gingerbread! Jump Robert!
Jump all you children from boredom's orphanage!


Alana - I chose this name in case she does not believe that this is my blog.

This is a story of cookies. It takes a lot of people to bake cookies sometimes.



Ruth said...

Great, Montag. Let's spice up the life of them young'uns! Away, away from electrono-gadgets! (as she types on her lit Macbook Pro keyboard ....)

Montag said...

The irony is only an apparent irony. However, your computer "tracks" you, too.
What are the chances that all this data will be put solely to benign and noble use?