A Poem

I created this poem as I came back from the library today.

    I walked.
    Maple seeds
    soaked on the asphalt.

    They talked.
    Hood drawn,
    I saw their sneakers.

    Rain fell.
    Black shoes
    wet from the drops.

    I walked.
    Hood drawn,
    wet from the drops.

Humbling the Pope

     I was happy to be one of the 45-50,000 people who attended a mass with Pope Benedict XVI during his visit in April. I'd love to tell you all about it, but others have already done so. My comments here will be limited to a faux pas on my part.
     Oft you may hear people shouting "Viva il Papa!" during an apostolic visit such as this one. As you may be able to guess, it's Italian for "Long live the Pope." Now, you might think that a man who has studied languages, especially Latin and Spanish, would have no trouble repeating said exclamation. Caught up in the joy of the celebration I cheered, "Viva la papa!" It didn't really sound right to me, but as an admitted fan, I waved my little white and yellow flag and shouted it again anyway. "Viva la papa!"
     Sounds similar, right? What's the difference anyway? one vowel, right? It's meaningless in Italian, but when I actually took a moment to stop and think, I realized I had just called the pope a potato in Spanish.
     I'm sure it's not the first time he's heard it. "Long live the potato...er...pope!"