O, Thumb, the one,

we see your sign of

approval, sometimes doubled.

And you, Number Two, Index

ET extends his–

it glows, throbbing;

the touch of home.

The Middle,

you sometimes-rude one, but strong,

with your wafting digit, smell arrives.

O Ring, the fourth,

as a too-large metal band slides

free and strikes the floor,

sings.

Last and little, the pinkie

dips delicately into frosting

or guacamole, to sample

to taste.

I salute you,

the FIVE.

Here’s a sample of one of the features at our poetry cafe.  YOURS will be so much better, (but I’m a bit proud that I pulled this together).  The “Photos for Class” widget is one of the most useful tools ever—not to mention Animoto