fish – Saint Beckett

Soaked….

….in the mire of existence.

We find ourselves…..

….on the Island where we belong.

Was my dad….

……a fish.

Fish heads….

…..roly poly fish heads.

Dress for the job….

…you actually want.

The fish were …..

…..sailing the glittering seas.

Blow your own Trumpet Fish

Toot, toot, toooooot.

This is not a pipe fish

Bat Fish

Does this bat eat frutti di mare.

Getting there

So it’s still in the works, but I’m drawing away when I can to get Elizabeth J. M. Walker’s book of tales, “The Boy Who Owned The Forest,” finished.

Here is a preview of one of my favourite stories “The Winter Of The River.” There is still much to do, but I’ll get there.