. . . Monday. Evening. You know, we used to say: Monday is a hard day. There is a war in the country. So every day is Monday. 

And now we are used to the fact that every day and every night are like that. 

Today is the 12th. 12th evening of our struggle. Our defense. 

We are all on the ground, we are all working. 

Everyone is where they should be. I am in Kyiv. My team is with me. The territorial defense is on the ground. The servicemen are in positions. Our heroes! Doctors, rescuers, transporters, diplomats, journalists... 

Everyone. We are all at war. We all contribute to our victory, which will definitely be achieved. By force of arms and our army. By force of words and our diplomacy. By force of spirit, which the first, the second and each of us have. . .

~Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky from a video he posted, transcript on CNN

Wake up, safe and sound. Wonder what has been done to the people of Ukraine overnight. A madman, a single madman––it doesn’t take more than that! to hold the whole world hostage. How can this be? Who can stop him? It’s maddening and bewildering. We are all waking up to this. I go out. I listen to the New York Times, The Daily podcast, as I respect the reporting of Sabrina Tavernese who speaks Russian and is interviewing refugees escaping into Poland. The woods are damp and the ice is all in a melt. I have no need of jacket, just my vest. I am in the mood for a long ramble in the woods with the dogs. We go five miles, and then, home, I have a lot to do at my desk. I have had an e-mail from a journal I would like to be published in—from the poetry editor who says he likes, in particular, one of my poems, but they wonder about the ending. Am I interested in working on it? Well, yes. I’m grateful to be asked, because I know I have not, despite many workshops for this poem, nailed the landing, and I’m so pleased they believe in the poem, I do want to find the best ending. So, I write and say so. Waiting to hear back. Meanwhile I need to do some prep for my webinar tomorrow night and also find a poem to bring tonight. I revise the poem—one of the poems—I wrote last week about Costa Rica and send that. Later, revise another poem I’ve worked on and worked on, but not in a long time. Again, the darned ending tripping me up! But I make some revisions and it feels like progress. Make butternut squash and spinach and mushroom flatbread pizza for dinner. Tonight, while cooking dinner, watching CNN, I see the video of President Zelensky at his desk, out of his bunker, announcing that he is not afraid of anyone. Astonishing act of leadership. Astonishing.