The exercise:
Write a four line poem about: landings.
We've landed in a hotel in Vancouver (technically North Vancouver) without issue. It was a remarkably smooth drive and ferry ride, actually.
Tomorrow the aquarium awaits, then a night with Kat's aunt, then homeward bound on Monday.
2 comments:
Is North Vancouver the poorer, more monkey-poxed version of Vancouver then, since you're clarifying that you're not in Vancouver proper? :)
I feel I'm setting myself up for failure ever more with each verse of this poem but still....
Landing
And I mutter ‘I’m sorry’, he growls just a touch
That he’s heard it before and it has a bland ring.
Then returns to the flying and being exceedingly butch
And achieving a cross-wind storm-threatened landing.
Greg - nah, it's just a distinct city of its own and I thought I ought to clarify. It's actually quite lovely, with lots of parks and woods and mountains and such.
And yet failure has yet to arrive! Remarkably so, even :D
We've returned to land and you've made it all the way through July! Only five months to go :)
Post a Comment