At 3:00 a.m. I woke, two hours before the alarm I set and stayed awake. Voting day. I got out of bed at 5:00, loaded the dogs in the car, arrived at the Town Hall by 6:00 a.m. and the building was dark. Nobody in the parking lot but me. I checked the sign on the door; the notice I’d read online was wrong. The polls wouldn’t open til 7:00. So, I drove to my old neighborhood, the woods I walked on the other side of this small town, and parked. Charlie was thrilled. It was just getting light. We left the car next to the cemetery, crossed the narrow, vacant, tree-lined street and went into the familiar woods. The dogs are excited about the change of plans. I can think of no better place to me than among the trees on this momentous day, under this soft, enchanting light. When we return to the Town Hall, there is a little line of masked people in line ahead of me. It’s a very tiny wait, and then, so happily, my ovals are blackened, my votes are cast. It’s a day of challenging focus. But I sit and try to write a poem for Thursday workshop. I’m stuck. These weeks off from my Thursday workshop have left me cold, I must warm up. I cannot think of anything I’ve started that I want to work on, or anything to start. But, I don’t give up. I take up the draft of a Martha’s Vineyard poem I brought to the last workshop I went to with this group. It’s in bad shape. But, it’s what I’ve got. I wrestle with it for a good amount of time. I go back through all my notes, and I’ve made a lot. Finally, this helps. I feel as if I’ve gone back to the drawing board. I’ve made a new start. It’s not there, but I have some time tomorrow and I think I can improve it. I am finding my way, not giving up. In the evening, as the polls begin to close, I set up a Zoom with some friends to have some laughs, share some anxieties, begin the long night in a cheerful frame of mind. Now, who knows if I will sleep much. But as I close my eyes, I will visualize being under the enchanting spell of morning trees.