When the sun doesn't shine, and the snow turns to slosh,
and our boots fill with cold, muddy water, then gosh,
oh, the rants we can rant! We have restocking rants,
and rants about shrinkwrap, and rants about pants.
We rant about Mercury's long retrograde.
We rant at distinctions that publishing's made.
We rant when YA is considered inferior,
rant when the spinner's a pain-in-posterior,
rant when a title excludes girls or boys,
and rant when announcements are drowned out with noise.
We wave our arms jerkily. Speech grows frenetic.
You might say it's nonsense; you might say poetic.
We feel all the feelings and just have to share.
So laugh all you want, but we rant 'cause we care.
(Dr. Seuss's birthday is March 2, and our display in his honor just went up. I am always willing to rant joyously about how he took the same reading vocabulary that less entertaining books were attempting to teach and created The Cat in the Hat, which taught kids that reading could be fun while also teaching both phonics and sight words through rhyme and repetition. See, there I go.)
