Night terrors woke my baby son.We let him lie between us, but he refused to sleep.So I put him back, and resumed crying.Pinwheel would be a great wordif it wasn’t so close to pinworm.If pinwheels stop, everything slides to a halt.The crying carried out over our garden.We called it our convent garden, beautiful,spiritual, chaste, pure, … Continue reading Blowing on the Pinwheel by Luanne Castle