Spring-loaded
Spring is eleven days old. Spring folds winter in its apron, like warm bread for later. Spring bears more than a passing resemblance to Tabby’s Place.
How the cookie does not crumble
There are orange collared cats, and then there are orange frosted cats. There are final warnings, and then there are new beginnings.
The Big Meal
We’ve been awaiting you. We’ve been preparing for days. Can you smell the heavenly aroma?