Now that April is nearly through, here's a poem by a favorite poet in honor of National Poetry Month.


A baby, I stood in my crib to hear
the ding-ding of a vegetable truck approaching.

When I was bigger, my mom took me out
to the street
to meet the man who rang the bell and
he tossed me
a tangerine...the first thing I ever caught.
I thought he was
a magic man.

My mom said there used to be milk trucks too.
She said, "Look hard, he'll be gone soon."
And she was right. He disappeared.
Now, when I hear an ice-cream truck chiming
its bells, I fly.
Even if I'm not hungry-just to watch it pass.
Mailmen with their chime of dogs barking
up and down the street are magic, too.
They are all bringers.
I want to be a bringer.
I want to drive a truck full of eggplants,
down the smallest street.
I want to be someone making music
with my coming.

-Naomi Shihab Nye
Photo by Julia, taken 4/27/08 Stewart Stubbs State Park


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