Monday, February 14, 2005

One misty, moisty morning,
When cloudy was the weather,
I chanced to meet an old man
Clothed all in leather.
He began to compliment,
And I began to grin,
How do you do?
And how do you do?
And how do you do, again?

I thought of this childhood poem while I rode my bike to school this morning in the misty moisty fog. It isn't the dry, light fluffy fog, or the thick pea soup fog; it's the soggy wet, almost-rain-but-not fog. It makes me feel like I'm walking in a sponge. . . wet, soppy, soggy-ness.

Back to the poem. . .as soon as I remembered it I could see the page it was on, and the funny little colored pencil sketch of the child and the old man. I always wondered why the old man was dressed in leather, and if that meant he was poor or rich. And then I wondered what he began to compliment about, and though it was very strange that someone would say 'how do you do' three times in a row. But I always had a secret hope that maybe the next time I was walking in a misty moisty morning I would meet an old man all dressed in leather, and he would begin to compliment, so I could begin to grin. " do you do, and how do you do, and how do you do, again?"


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