Musings on personal growth, books, motherhood, writing, and more.
Squirrels rush around like Wall Street brokers,
every nerve bent toward the goal of rich stocks.
My cats come alive like kids at a circus,
the music provided by honking geese flocks.
I sit on the steps like a garden statue,
watching the leaves take their final bow:
like confetti, they color the day’s cool breeze.
I will miss summer’s green—but not right now.