The best time in June to see the turtles laying eggs is morning. Wow, this lady was huge, and my daughter found her in the yard, having lumbered across the meadow from the river. Wave and I ran over. We had been walking around to see the garden and greet the morning before school. I think he was wowed––a little afraid of her. She had not yet dug her hole, was still looking for a spot. We went back to the house to get Wave off, and she came closer and closer to the house. After Wave left I found her on our granite steps. Not sure where she picked. Never saw her again today, and the process takes hours. I had poetry this morning, shared a revision, was well received. Revised it a bit more after workshop. It was sunny and bright all day. Pollen is a distinct weather: it’s green powder in clouds blowing across the yard and landing on every piece of furniture indoors and green dust all over the floor. I attended an online book release in the late afternoon for the Alzheimer’s poetry anthology, Poetry for the Dementia Journey, that I have three poems in, and we all read from the anthology. I haven’t read these poems of mine at a reading in a long time; they were written in 2014. And when I read How He Asks I teared up, and that surprised me––how much I still and suddenly missed my father. This poem I wrote in his voice: