Squibs, when I wanted to dash off pithy.
Essays, when I wanted to come to grips.
Stories, when I wanted to tell something.
Poems, when I wanted to say more.
Jokes, when I wanted to make people laugh and forget their troubles.
Words, when I wanted to communicate because I need to, for human contact because I have more love than I can stand or tolerate without sharing, and a way to help save the world from itself so I can see it before I’m gone and quietly resign myself to the satisfaction of finally and at last.