Better

I remember a song,
From a musical long ago,
when Annie argued and proved
she was better than her foe.
I have met women like that,
who were confident and sure,
better than anyone,
and not demure.
On Mother’s Day they prove again
They are not anyone’s slave,
and better than
those who rule by might
I think women bring life,
Carrying a child for nine months,
creating without strife,
making things better.
Thanks to mothers everywhere.
Happy Mother’s Day!
May 6, 2017

the world bravebetter

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Measure

He decided to measure the board one more time to be sure. His apprentice was quick but when no one was watching, the apprentice would rush things. Often when the foreman thought a job was finished, he would go back and measure again. It didn’t hurt to be certain. His father taught him to be exact. Why couldn’t his apprentice do the same? Measure, measure, measure. Measure three times and cut once and there were few mistakes. His son, the apprentice, didn’t seem to care. How many times could he forgive his son? Did he have to be perfect? The foreman knew his crew and knew they waited for his decision. Would he hire the girl who worked slower and precisely or would he keep his apprentice, his son, who didn’t follow his dad’s instructions? Would the son ever measure up to the foreman’s expectations?