December 22, 2016

Strange day. Drove aimlessly down Brevard Road, where I bought seeds I didn’t need at Eden Brothers and stopped at an antique store and got two old glass tree ornaments. Made it through most of choir rehearsal with my voice intact, so maybe the humidifier was not a waste of money. Pulled back oddly from the flood of poetry that had been gushing forth each morning. Minor, yet inexplicable, dread. Perhaps I really am that affected by world events. Trump is a danger not seen in the West, ever, so maybe I should allow myself dread and quiet action. The crows holler at me when it’s been too long since I left something on the lawn for them.