see Matthew 11:25-30
Smile! All smiles and wonderment, delightenment is he.
The world’s new, his life young, so loudly he SINGS!
All is all joy and unknown joys just known.
“What is this? Those these and this them and that and that and you?!”
He knows he will know and know very soon.
Laugh! His laughs are his cradle, his cradle life warms.
Another fresh something is given to HIM!
As it ever has been and ever should be.
“This this I have never seen. It is mine? Of course it is!”
Anything everything is his he can easily see.
Grin! His grins are his tale’s toll and reward.
A greeting he offers this strange thingling NEW!
Spring springing it’s bringing fresh old to the young.
“Hey! Do I know you? You familiar me! Welcome, sir, please!”
Puzzles be growing helping his knowing.
Giggle! Many giggles this child generously shows.
Of time he owns all and fast throws on this problem quite ODD!
Riddled from heaven wet riddles allbody learns.
“Your name me escapes and it you tell not. May I guess, kind sir?”
Naming a gaming all ways he’s playing.
Guffaw! A thousand guffaws the Old Man has uttered.
Time is not old but he is and Youth bores him to PAIN!
Tired men, Old Man, redoing the done.
“Try you might. Fail. Man always does. Yawn.”
Sung songs ‘tho’ he has he’d rather not sing.
Smirk! Sly smirks show his mind within searching.
Perspiration won’t do, for this he will SWEAT!
Fear of failure and fear of fearing bravery shuns.
“Something udoable is something to do.”
Not trying is dying, is dying to die; he lives to try.
Snicker! His snickers long habit, a wreck but unbroken.
Inspiration he drowns, drowning SWEAT! in his WET!
Cowards and kings seek youth and die young.
“Do what you can. You can’t new under this sun. Guess.”
Trying is lying, is fooling the fool, yourself the big fool; he is no fool.
Titter! He titters as always when triumph comes near.
A new new is this – a youngling from old OLD!
Ancient and used sleeping together, awakening infants age-nurtured.
“You aren’t snow and you’re not rain. Obviously, you’re Snain!”
Victory found he finishes, ‘tho’ his winning’s not done.
Chortle! SNAIN must get used to another wrong name.
It snained several days ago. A lad of five or six asked me what it is and how it is used and where it comes from and why it is and how to get used to it. All in one breath, all in one question, all in one wonderfully wonder-filled expression on his face. I said, “I don’t know. Guess.” He said, “How will I know if I have the right answer?” I said, “It’ll sound right.” He smiled, then laughed, then walked off dribbling his basketball, being snained upon. I wonder what he calls his snain…
Author Notes: It is said that the natives of the environs of the North Pole have dozens and scores of names for various forms of frozen precipitation. Some of us have lots of names for various forms of mirth on the face. How about you?