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Christmas. The Midnight Sun.





I've been composing innocent little ditties to fill a little book to give to my little niece, to put in her little hands, to be read by her little eyes or heard by her little ears, to be spoken (hopefully, and eventually) by her little larynx, tongue, etc.. Here's a few:

Robin redbreast,
Robin redthroat,
Robin with a song that never grows old -
sing us a song when the days are long,
sing us a song when the days are short,
sing us a song as we grow old,
and if our days be short, sing all the more.

*

The wiggly worm
belongs below ground,
except when it rains
when above ground it's found.

*

When rain falls
burns* rise;
when sun burns
burns fall.

*in Scotland, a 'burn' is a stream or river.

You'll notice I love wordplay; I love playing with identical words in their different meanings, like 'burn' in its two uses there; 'falling' rain and 'falling' water level; the metaphor of a song not 'growing old' and the truth of a person 'growing old'.

Merry Christmas.