Go back to sleep little one 
the thunderstorms are blowing in the summer
it’s only thunder and it will pass
smell the fresh wet air like new grass
the fireflies are coming alive
like fairies from a Midsummer dream
the little sprites that follow our loves and lives
they will know we’re leaving this yellow house
because they can speak with the wind and rain
they will know we’re leaving this little yellow house
this yellow house where you were born
this yellow house where your sister was born
June 22, 2008
June 15, 2008
Happy Fathers’ Day! To think - after 14 years of marriage, I’ve finally been civilized into the ranks of the “suburban dad”. Civilization hasn’t been easy for me. I think today I’ll just pour a nice glass of Bordeaux, make a mushroom quiche and watch this lovely French video with my daughter.
We’ve been working on strength by doing windsprints in the water and invincibility with the Superman suit. I think the perfect antidote to the “soccer mom” is the “rugby dad”. ”Tim – the rugby dad,” I like the sound of that. Now I just need to convince my wife to move to New Zealand where she can get some proper rugby training and return to sleepy suburbia a Haka Fighting Machine. Isn’t that what fatherhood’s all about: High hopes for your children?
June 6, 2008
It’s a parade. Sirens in the distance. Closing in - anticipation.
Led by today’s hero. A Vietnam veteran.
The workaday heros follow him.
Flashing lights. Loud in passing.
Ladder 19 is our security. Engine 1 our history.
Wave at the fire fighters like you know them
Catch the candy as they throw some
High School Band follows proud. White shoes stepping.
Ladies and Lions club fall in line.
Sallie’s dance class learning to keep time.
New police recruits in their best blues.
Some crazy guy in a tutu.
Church group advertising God’s plan
Precedes the punk band
A little boy dropped his ice cream
And I’m just watching
Watching the strangers at the parade.
