Dancing like a 3yr old boy (in gumboots)
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In the past five years Iβve written lines of bleakness wordy strings of worry lamentations upon the world, critiques of politicians' behavioural shame. Somber, has crept into my vocab, like sobriety into my fridge, or my own humility in a crowded room. I do not embrace these feelings of somberness. However, on a sunny day like this I get to dance with my moko boy, his face crinkling with joy, as he leaps in the air spreading magic. He is my aroha mai in gumboots. Yet, the news still stinks, creeping in my room, sending out shocks of gloom, while I scan the horizon for warships and I search the seashore for polar bears whoβve lost their way. Misery has stolen my pen, itβs time to make fun of life, tease some friend, make the somberness end. I'm about to create some tom-fluckery, have a laugh, βcos if youβve ever seen me dance, you know Iβm not somber... I dance like a three year old boy in gumboots.