“…If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.”

~ Excerpt from “Stand Still,” by David Wagoner

Oh, February, it took a long time for me to warm up in you today. Mist and cloud and melted. I looked into the brook: February scribble: hasty, meaningless marks. Fortunately, I found a feather in the railroad gravel. It took a long time for me to feel present. I did not stay out long in the damp wet, as I had a poetry workshop in Concord. Drove there with one of my daughters with my poem about breastfeeding. We passed Walden Pond covered in mist. At the workshop, the poems were rich and juicy and I felt happy to be engulfed in discussing poems. My friend Jenny shared what I think is the most stunning poem I’ve read this year about mothers and poetry and snow. And my own poem that I first shared in this workshop a few weeks ago was so well received. The work I’d done paid off. I left happy and satisfied. I have had no real time to write since last Saturday. We met my other daughter for lunch in Concord. I’m getting a bounty of time with my girls. The three of us at lunch for the second time this week getting lost in deep conversation. Even in turbulent times of change, there are so many moments to appreciate when love and concern and goodwill and clarity and honesty and hope and generosity and are being exchanged. Tonight the sky was dramatic and gorgeous as the dark sky broke open and the almost full moon rose as my daughter and I left the house to go to yoga. Clouds beaming with moonlight racing away.