“When I began to listen to poetry, it’s when I began to listen to the stones, and I began to listen to what the clouds had to say, and I began to listen to other. And I think, most importantly for all of us, then you begin to learn to listen to the soul, the soul of yourself in here, which is also the soul of everyone else.”

—Joy Harjo

Ted Hughes was right about wakefulness and the Harvest Moon. I was asleep as soon as I hit the bed; awake, however, wide awake, by 3:00 a.m. This morning I had an important errand to run at 5:45 a.m. – to drive a friend to the hospital for surgery. So, Charlie and Suzi were anxious and sad when I slipped out the door without them. And then, surprised and delighted when I came home a few hours later and invited them into my car. We drove into the center of town to Rose’s Automotive. My car needed fixing, and after I left it, our daily walk was up the railroad tracks from the center of town all the way home to Rocky Narrows. They trotted along beside me smelling all the new smells. This is where I found the bright yellow tansy in bloom to cheer me along through the morning. On my mind was my poetry reading at the Lily Poetry Salon tonight, where I was a feature with Karen Friedland and Marcia Karp. I had to prepare, and decide what to read. I put this off, however, til the last part of the afternoon after some Board committee meetings and some revising of my poem for Monday. Making it better, still, I think, not worse. Finally, I was ready to place tonight’s reading in focus and decide which poems and how I wanted to introduce them. I think I must have chosen well, as the reading at Lily went so beautifully, with the other poets, the receptive and intimate audience, and many friends in poetry, and Frank, of course. It was an evening as if we gathered around a story fire: intimate, engaged, deep and nourishing of our spirits. The circle of us, together, all sharing and listening and caring to connect with truth and beauty, it was so satisfying. Frank, my trustiest fan, always and always, who tells me the truth in the ways I can hear it, falling off to sleep, says, groggily, one last time, “Great job tonight.” BLACKOUT.