Missy, Empress of All the Light Touches

We passed a misty, moonish night with Missy lit up in the light of FarmWife's giant flashlight every hour or two. 

She's down, but feeling rather bright—she bleating, eating, acting quite content considering that she cannot move.

I didn't mean to write a poem, but these words came and FarmWife wrote 'em—rhymish, with a bumping, lilting groove.

It comes from getting little sleep—we both a vigil had to keep! We're loopy, so would you a nap approve?

Missy with Jasper Jules on the day of his birth—April 1, 2008