Please come and help me collect my jaw from the floor

[spacedlaw]

For the unbelievable had happened
The inconceivable has been conceived
And - what's more - the motions gone through:

Jessi, the editor of Folded Word, who has published several stories and poems of mine on Twitter, has gone overboard and nominated my poem "The Sage's Secret" for the Pushcart Prize.

And now there is a giddy bit
Cavorting inside my rib cage
And it will not be tamed,
And it will not be cowed.

And all this despite the fact that I do sternly tell it to shup up and behave and who it thinks it is anyway? It is not as if I'd be winning the prize anyway -  supposing there is one to be won indeed; I must confess my knowledge of the subject is a little fuzzy.

But the blooming thing is just blowing raspberries at me...

So thanks for the raspberries, Jessi - they are my favourite fruit - and for your enthusiasm for my words.
I feel blessed that they touched you enough for you to take that decision.

And thanks to you, readers, friends (and the odd countryman) for just being who you are.