By John R. Greenwood
Silly tales make smiles emerge, softly in the tuck of an arm, and bubble sounds like sprinkled sugar upon warm pastry please a one boy crowd. I collect these simple moments so fleeting, like July fireflies, jarred up and set upon a bedroom sill. A little ones first Easter nourishes me like April rain a flower’s bed. I smile in return and squeeze tight the love staring back at me.