Anne Watts

I found a dead goose on the beach a little after dark recently. The alter ego of Mother Goose. My children had birthdays around the same time, turning 12 and 14.  Mother Goose is undergoing a metamorphosis in my house, in my psyche. She was once white and fat and I could carry her. Now she’s giving way to something more lifelike, more multi-dimensional. The best fairy tales are all about it.  Even Mother Goose will die.