I keep my secrets mostly at the bottom of the old water well. Every Spring, some of my secrets, on beautiful wing, flutter out like so many determined, yellow-black butterflies and float in the earliest of winds from hither and thither, to this or that bush seeking my family tree to settle and smile and taunt me with their lovely wings and gust for life . . . They keep their secrets better than I!
August 30, 2020
I do not keep my secrets well
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