A Poem of Three

Lit­tle tod­dler child
Mis­chie­vous, and riled
Into run­ning wild

Neapoli­tan ice
Num­ber of the blind mice
More than one or two, thrice

When I pon­der, I find
The best things of their kind
Are in threes, in my mind.

• Photo by Jeremy Brooks / Used with Per­mis­sion