Rain out the window seemed nice to me this morning: a refresh. To wash away frustration of a late night and early morning trying to solve, in phone hell, a problem signing into an online account that had been hacked. My daughter said she would join me, and the rain, and her companionship on the sopping trail, completely cleared my stress. We met a baby beaver skittering in the shallow water away from us into the river. And I listened to all her updates of school and work and life. Indoors, I did not bake today. But I did work on poem revisions. Applied last night’s feedback from poetry pals to my poem. Then, early in the evening, realized I need a poem to take to my new Thursday night workshop online. I settled onto my couch, and the fat moon rose in the black sky outside my window where they pink geranium blooms. Got lost in a pretty major revision. Lost for a while, not stuck. This poem about the silent retreat is taking a long, long time to get right.. And I am not at all sure it’s there, but it’s probably better. I discovered some things. My other daughter, tonight, helped me make the pizzas. The river and brooks and swamps and trails are flooding over with rainwater. And there is a report of “good news.” Tragic casualties will be many and loss will be terrible. Perhaps, not as many losses as predicted.