Who does a job well, and very well—
These are the artists, those curious
Lights.

We are cobblers of the song
And barkers of the carnival word,
We are tailors of the light
And framers of the earth.
We fish among the elements
And hunt the elusive green in gray and blue.
We drink forbidden waters
And eat an invisible food. . .

~ Excerpt from “On Gathering Artists,” by Alberto Rios

Day begins, dry, cold, windless and snowless as yesterday. There is gorgeous ice on the river. I like the gathering of energetic figures I find in a frozen swirl of activity in the river. Tonight, I find the Alberto Rios poem to connect with this image, and decide, yes! It’s a gathering of artists. Indoors, I do the prep for the Farm Pond Writers workshop tomorrow. I wake very early, with a few lines for a new poem and jot them down and go back to sleep, but I don’t get to work on the poem later. In the late afternoon there is a fine, sweet, fresh snow before dark and my friend comes over and we walk the property, talking, letting the snow cover our shoulders and boots pleasantly. It’s after 5:00 when it grows dark, the days lengthen. Tonight I go to a friend’s poetry reading on Zoom and then meet my poetry pals on Zoom to share poems, and I thought I would feel too tired. But we had a wonderful exchange of vulnerability and trust. This morning, before dawn, the most wonderful surprise. I had the window open to the frosty fresh air and my eyes closed, and I began to smell an earthy, herby scent and wondered how this fragrance had arrived in my bed. Then I realized it was wafting up from the rock garden at the side of the house: basil. Dried, frozen to the roots, but stirred by some rummaging of an animal with an appetite. Aromatherapy, it lulled me back to sleep.