A light rain, gentle on the tree tops, is falling tonight in the dark outside my window after a full and fulfilling day. Homecoming, into the woods, and the puddles had dried up and the ground beneath my feet all leaves, in all colors, soaked and shining, drenching me with vibrant light. It was a delicate morning, all the leaves raindropped and moist, and in the meadow the milkweed tattered and soaked, dripping seeds. We walked in reverie, stopping at the brooks, stopping at the wetlands, drinking peace and giving thanks for all this intense and fleeting beauty. And I loved my time in the city. But I cannot live for long without this canopy and narrow lanes between leaves that brush me soaking wet. I brought a poem tonight, the one I shared with my poetry pals online last week. I love this poem. It’s one of my favorite ones I’ve written lately. it feels like it’s trying to say something tender and necessary, and for the most part, I think it’s really working. And, I’m not in doubt about its truth or beauty tonight. But there may be something more, I must let it come. This act of sharing it tonight, it’s so essential, to know, to know if it’s truly complete. I appreciated very much what was admired. And I feel, intuitively now, there is something more that must be worked out of me with it. And I trust, will be. Yes, I trust this, because I know this habitat from which my poems spring will lead me to it.