And what is wrong with playing with words? Words love to be played with, just like children or kittens do!
I sit in my tree
I sing like the birds
My beak is my pen
My songs are my poems.
Anything seems possible at night when the rest of the world has gone to sleep.
It was great to see the owls," I said.
She smiled.
"Yes. They're wild things, of course. Killers, savages. They're wonderful.
There's light and joy, but there's also darkness all around and we can be lost in it.