little man words.

One thing I love about kids in the mid-elementary school years …. their evolving, thinking brains.

They’re just so clever and interesting.

And they find the world around them new and intriguing.

It’s all so glorious somehow.

My nature-loving, full force, energetic eight-year-old boy came to me with a tiny piece of paper last week.

He placed it in my hand.

It was another poem.

(This kid’s getting prolific.)

And I think it’s really observant and lovely and inspiring and true.

It reads …

“Though the trees only wither in winter,

joy comes again in the shape of the first bud.”

If I was going to title this poem, I think I’d call it Hope.