"To read a poem in January is as lovely as to go for a walk in June."
-  Jean-Paul Sartre

I saw the sky growing pink and hurried outdoors as soon as i could to be in the color. There is so little brightness in January, I want to make the most of what there is. The sky was dramatic at the River. The ornamental beaded fern froze in the wetlands. The river’s ice was intricately patterned. I brought my new poem to my poetry workshop and saw the changes it needs. I agree with Sartre about reading poems in January. The workshopped poems were lovely. There was a richness to the workshop, like the blueshine of this splendid morning sky. Sleepy January, I am glad it is bedtime.