All things bright and beautiful

You know, when all's said and done, nothing's so important as life, nothing's so trivial as writing, in the face of a baby born too early, trying to take a bite out of life to see what it's like. There's a teeny feller over in Oz, doing just that. He's one of those wee ones that come complete with hats and tubes and drips and nurses. One of those who live in tanks and under lights and with machines ticking and bleeping away in the background. And somehow, him battling away to get a nibble, makes the world spin a tad faster. My world anyway, and the world of people who matter to me. And over the last week, little feller seems to have developed a taste for catching a ride on it. And he has. So good on him. Time to head home and put some weight on those sparrow-bones and have a go at life outside the box.  It's not so bad, little feller.  And all the while, my book has taken a nibble of its own, with hats and tubes and bleeping things to help it along, and another miracle, trivial in the extreme, has happened. All creatures great and small.