The plow, scraping and pushing, woke me very early in the white and dark morning. Frank woke too and we watched the snow out of all the windows, the buried yard, and it blew and blew and it was a lovely view. I asked Frank, who is handy and kind, to please fix my broken snow shoe, and he wired it up so quick, and out into the snow I went as soon as it was light. To the river. I cut my trail, the dogs, both of them, running ahead of me. I shook the branches that blocked my way and made a nice trail for myself to ski on tomorrow. We will have a white Christmas, it seems. The birds rushed Frank’s feeders and he filled them. The dogs happily ran indoors to warm up. I realized today that I have two poems published in Sand Hills Lit Mag. One, a poem I wrote about my daughter, my youngest, when she was just going to elementary school: “Dyslexic,” and one about a childhood experience of almost drowning on a trip to Nova Scotia. I was tired today, I must admit. Not physically tired, just mentally tired. Satisfied, too, from the week, but Zoomed out. I had my poetry workshop and my poem draft of this week needs a ton of work. So. Then, I ran the IWWG open mic, featuring Porsha Olayiwola, who was very stimulating and interesting, but I wasn’t my energetic self. I am glad for the snow, for the chance to go out into it on my skies when I wake after rest.