Shorter. Sweeter.
Well, shorter, anyway.
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A tiny note, by my standards, anyway.
And you know how long my notes can be.
And with the wine arrived, I offer you a menu.
See you at the dinner table.
A quiet dining room, but a full plate
My plate overfloweth.
Another calico cat walks away.
Nothing wrong with a good, reliable tabby.
Let’s just all remain calm; I’m sure there’s a rational explanation.
Or pretty sure, anyway.
The ineffable air of impending autumn
Come on, Autumn. Get over here.
Eat your feelings.
Fork, or shovel?
Caesar, the Pope, Mussolini, and Feast
And Osso Buco. Hand in hand.
Prior planning prevents poor performance.
And yet, I can’t be made to change.