The seasons are like the circus. It's hard to know what might come next. It's safe to assume that it might be amazing or it might be a mess, that you might feel astonished or possibly on edge.
The boys are like the circus, too.
The earth is the stuff of awe, but the boys are the force behind most of our fantastic. They create worlds from the depths of their imaginations, make magic from their very own minds. Ideas tumble from their brains the way clowns spill out of cars. Stories spread from their tongues the way sprouts push through the soil in strong emerald clumps. They have us smiling one minute and holding our breath the next.
The boys are amazed by new green leaves where yesterday there were none, by birdsong, by bugs. By pretty much every big and little thing. We live together in wonderment with them, at the whole wide world, the greatest show.
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