My one year old brother’s on Grandpa’s wide lap,
With the catalog showing some fish.
I dart over there breathing fire’s green tongue
And plotting to wreck his sweet bliss.
Sidling as close and as snug as can be
I edge my teeth round his soft hand –
And bite it smart, smite it, swiftly I sneak
In that bite – bitter land
Of jealousy, rivalry, envy, to whit.
Claim me. Burn me. No!
I turn away! Say:
“Sorry” the first time today.
His tears dry before me,
He hugs me and smiles;
We clap and we sing and we go
From begrudge, to beware, to beguile!
From bliss – to bite – to kiss!
The Vibrant Channeled Creator 