There was a brief moment when I felt like I had been kicked to the curb....
But...After hearing my prose read at Bloomington Art Center... and having the gentleman next to me lean over with program in hand and say, "Can I have your autograph?" I realize...it's just a shift in prospective. Enjoy. A Little Water "How little is water?" My son asked sitting in a bathtub filled with plastic boats. "It's as small as rain,” I explained. "Pouring from the sky in a thunderstorm." His voice boomed as his feet turned the tepid bath water into crashing waves, sinking half his fleet. Shaking my head like a dog emerging from a lake. "As small as a raindrop in a gentle spring shower, clinging to a shiny green leaf--" “Eaten by a big fat green caterpillar that gulps down all the leaves before crashing down to the ground.” His palm smacked the surface sending a spray of water. Eyebrows popped up like umbrellas, hands flayed like windshield wipers, but still I got wet. “As small as a tear from an orange monarch--” “But