I dance by the camp fire with a S’more every year. It’s my way of appreciating my life and all my blessings, and trying to entertain my family. It’s me being me and communing with nature. It’s my weird ritual, and man, it feels good.
One year, my family got it on camera, and I posted it for you readers to have a laugh at. My dear friend Larry, who has since passed away, had an especially long
good belly laugh over it. This one’s for you, Lar.
This white poet can’t dance (or rap). I sure do have fun trying, though.