There may come a day when Agnes actually understands what she’s saying, Trout.
now is the winter of our dis content…
astute? sounds like the noise you get when you have bad gas.
My old book of poetry remains uncracked.
Agnes, I feel your pain.
Agnes has the chops to be a writer.
The roaring of the wind and the babbling of the book.
Love the rendering of the sky.
Time, time, time
to see what’s become of me…
Gone is the children’s laughter replaced with the moans of schoolwork
Trout is getting crabby…er
I like Autumn but Agnes did very well here.
For once I am elated with Agnes and disappointed in Trout.
Hey Trout, knock it off.