Old cats and wild geese
A goose landed on the spire of my church one morning. And he stayed. And he stayed. And he shouted. And he made me think of Winston, and you, and me.
Epilogues: March 2022
From where I sit, legs dangling off the edge of the world, ready to be caught by 120 strong cats, I can tell you the following with a high measure of confidence: We have had ourselves a capital-M Month.
Epilogues: April 2017
April, sweet April, T.S. Eliot had you all wrong. You’re not the cruellest month. You’re not trying to show us fear in a handful of dust.
Epilogues: March 2017
March, baby, we need to talk. That lion-and-lamb stuff is an understatement when it comes to you. Good heavens to Murgatroyd, did you ever march forth.