If I cannot do great things, I can do small things in a great way.

~ Martin Luther King Jr.

I walked to the river. A mild and still January Monday. Absence of ducks, absence of ice. I took the picture yesterday of the acorn, wrote about it last night, and this morning, I listened to the Upaya Zen podcast, and what was the theme? Acorns and oak trees. A fun coincidence I called in. My morning I gave to helping my daughter; but I got a poem from the letters written for tonight’s Monday workshop. I’m uncertain about it. When am I not? But there is a line in it that I love and I’m grateful for. I will put this one away, leave it alone. I am trying to leave them alone after drafting and sharing them Monday nights, and I want to get through all the letters into poems and then go back to the entirety of the project and consider what I’ve done. I kept looking out the window today, for the sky to give some interesting signals. I took a break in the late afternoon, well, it was almost 5:00 to start dinner, and then, I did see, out the window, a signal. It was dusk closer to 5:00 than 4:00. Days lengthen. I imagined spring coming, and summer again, and swimming in the pond every day. And flowers! They will be in the yard and the woods, there will be a whole season of awakening, as there always is,. and I felt, well, it’s not so far away at all. After dinner, I have to laugh. I mildly chided Frank, about some clutter, and he snapped back. And I was very hurt! His tone was so much sharper than mine! I went silent. Except for the angry closing of cupboards and doors. Oh, I had a right to be hurt. Then, he said, in a friendly way, I’m sorry I snapped. Oh, I wasn’t sure I was done with being hurt––so I said, in a very soft voice, I’m sorry too. Well, he didn’t quite hear me. So he said, What? And, this time, I was ready to mean it. I said loudly enough, I’m sorry too. And we laughed.