Here is an unusual morning: I choose not to go for a walk that, last night, I imagined I would enjoy. A sleepless night, coughing, and I want to conserve my energy. Starting the new session of the Charles River Writers and have three new members I am eager to welcome. I am prepared, and we gather, not in person, but each from our own homes. How lovely it is to be together to write in the New Year; old friends and new. We go deep and into authentic, intimate territory. In the afternoon, the rain and wind come as promised. I have a short nap. And then a session with my wonderful psychodrama trainer via Zoom. We do a psychodrama virtually that is quite meaningful and emotional and gives me more energy. Since I took no walk, took no pictures, since I let the dark of the day fall without being outdoors, I find, instead, this Denise Levertov poem, an exquisite one for this January moment and scene of life. I enter it as if it’s a meditation prompt, connecting me with my deepest breath. January in the bones today. Thinking of my mother, how calming and comforting to be in her low-lit kitchen in the early dark of January, present with her busy attention to making a sit-down dinner for us around her table. January.