A brown jay kept “visiting” me this morning while I was writing. It found hopping about on my deck furniture to be an amusing pastime, not to mention staring at me with beady, birdy eye…
While I babysat him and his sister yesterday, my grandson Ollie asked what I was doing. I told him I was writing a special kind of poem. A first-grader, but he knows what poetry is. I tried to expl…