I need to dress warmer. It’s not warming up. It’s super cold, these mornings. And yet, this morning was so exquisite by the river. I drove the half-mile to the Charles Link trail on the other side of the river. Hardly anyone was around, and no matter how fast I walked I couldn’t warm up. But the trees, reflected on the river, were arresting. That’s the unique, beautiful feature of this trail, you can walk so far along the river, passing so many views, low to high. I climbed down a bank when I saw the red winterberries hanging from a branch above the blue river. All was still and quiet. I worked the ending, again, after waking – still the cheese puff poem, and I found better last lines. Is it there? We shall see. The past two days I’ve been on a bit of a submission binge: poems out the door. Today, I heard from an editor, praising some, saying very encouraging things, asking, even, to see a few more, and suggesting he’s thinking seriously about them. Quickly, I replied with six more as yet unpublished ones. My mantra, as always: Do the footwork; let go of the results. Until I hear something definitive, I will keep sending poems out. I will wear another layer for warmth. I will keep walking in the cold by the river of trees.
