It is the Fat, round as a jar. It is the Thin, home from the war. Its name is Scheme. Its name is Sly. Or Celery. Or Tom-One-Eye. It is the Ghost haunting the dump. It is the Hope.
It is the Eyes. Lit with green fire, after the prize. It is the old Weaver of string. Beneath the stars it is the Sing. (from Cat, What is That? by Tony Johnston with paintings by Wendell Minor, a beloved bedtime story)
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Meet Emily:Mother, photographer, writer. Expert in making things up as she goes and figuring things out along the way. Archives
March 2020
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