After my Monday night poetry group I rarely sleep well or enough. I wake early, and always want to reflect on what happened, and who shared what poem, and how I admire the work of the other poets. I wanted to go back into mine, to make some changes while the feedback is fresh, to see if what I hope is there is still there. But the day was busy with reading the writing of my How Pictures Heal course and commenting on their writing, and then spending time with company and visiting a friend who is staying in Sarasota. Strange, walking the wonderful beach just after sunrise, knowing it would be snowing all day at home. It made me appreciate even more the warm headwind I was walking in, heading south down the beach into this new day. Except, it’s also true, I know how happy I would be to snap my boots into cross country skis and call the dogs and go to the river with the flakes on my face, sweating from gliding hard into the wind of the freezing landscape of home and then into the house with the hearth and the fire. I’m not homesick. But I will always feel the split of loving there and here.