The poetry stretch this week was to write about games of childhood. One of my favorite things to do was make shadows on the wall, though I was never very good at it. Here is a wonderful poem about just such a pastime.Hand Shadows
by Mary Cornish
My father put his hands in the white light
of the lantern, and his palms became a horse
that flicked its ears and bucked; an alligator
feigning sleep along the canvas wall leapt up
Read the poem in its entirety.