“And as I walked on I was lonely no longer. I was a guide, a pathfinder, an original settler.”

Nick Carraway, from “The Great Gatsby,” F. Scott Fitzgerald

Rain. Lots of rain, all night, I woke to rain, but waited to go out in it. Late morning, after working from the minute I woke up, I went, but the rain had stopped. I was walking to the Butterfly trail, which by now I know well, and a couple asked me where it is. So, I was no stranger here to this place. They followed me to the trail. Still, the clouds were heavy, and I liked the change in the landscape, the sky was so interesting, but I felt a bit of homesickness for the first time. Frank planned to go into Arlington to gather with the kids, and I felt the pull of missing out. My legs were a little tired, I walked so much yesterday, but I walked a long time and the rain came again and I was glad. Then, the minute I returned to my room a big roll of thunder and lightning flash, and I felt so grateful not to have been caught in that drama outdoors. The poems keep coming. I don’t worry, I decided not to whine and worry and wonder whether or not they are “good.” They are. And also imperfect. And needing more work. But I am getting somewhere with them, I think. Writing again today, chipping away at this heart surgery poem and I know I made it better. But still, it needs. Tonight I took a break, drove in to see a movie in Santa Fe, picked a perfect, lovely movie: new Linda Ronstadt documentary, “The Sound of My Voice.” it was so well done, very emotional. I particularly appreciated seeing her friendship with Bonnie Raitt and Emmy Lou Harris featured. Here’s the trailer.