She's a poet and she knows it.

The Weekend Assignment this week wanted us to write something on poetry (April being poetry month, and all). Also to write a Haiku. Ouch. Can't do that.

I stopped appreciating poetry when I switched from French to English in my late teens. I mean I love things like Emily Dickinson, Wendy Cope, and I'm quite fond of Christina Rossetti, but on the whole I don't get it. Don't know why. Different rhythms and rimes, different conventions that I never studied. Maybe. Oh, and I quite like it when my husband reads poems aloud to me. Hint, hint...

My 10 year old daughter, ever tuned in to my swearing under my breath, asks what's up. I said I have to write a Haiku and will probably have to give up on this week's assignment. "Don't be stupid, she says. It's really easy. All you have to do is think of a subject then express yourself about it in 5-7-5. I open my mouth to scold her for, well, knowing better than me, when a light shines and I ask sweetly: 'Would you write one for me?'. 'Sure. I'll write a few and you can choose one. How about Istanbul and other places?' 'Ok'.