January 3, 2020

Lovely, full day. Rose and went to the Woodfin Y. The thought crossed my mind then and crosses my mind now that I haven’t had to take medication for inflammation since before Christmas. Wish I could figure why. Maybe a Christmas miracle.

Revised poems. When I looked at them, even the ones I could improve, I was pleased. I am the best poet I could possibly be. To be best at a maligned and obscure craft is an ambiguous blessing, but of all the things I wanted, perhaps I wanted that most, and here it is. I do give thanks. I do shoulder the load another day

Almost constant rain. Circe curls in the trash box upstairs. May she find a place to be secure until the end.