Thank you for all the birthday wishes. By the middle of yesterday afternoon I did manage to add about 5 words to my long poem, which is more than I expected to accomplish. And then Tom brought me flowers, which hardly ever happens and made me very happy.

Tom is planning to cook a full-scale birthday dinner on Saturday, when he hasn't been renovating houses all day. But I shall be spending my time getting ready to catch an early-morning bus from Waterville to New York City. I have never taken a 10-hour bus ride before, nor have I ever gone to the city with so much empty time on my hands. I wonder what I will do. I'm a little frightened at the idea, but I suppose I will get into the swing of aloneness.

I'll be reading on Tuesday evening with Jeannie Beaumont, who lives in Manhattan and directs the advanced poetry seminar at the Frost Place. The last time I saw Jeannie, we spent an hour or so wandering among the enormous Richard Serra sculptures in the new Museum of Modern Art. Meanwhile, my younger son, who must have been 8 or 9, ran in and out every opening, hooting about secret hiding places. Afterwards, we ate gelato.

Today, unfortunately, there will be neither art nor gelato. There will be hooting children, however, for scheduled this afternoon is the Harmony School's annual parent-student soccer game. So at 5 p.m. I will don the cleats that Paul grew out of last year and assume my position on the field, where I will spend a breathless hour being kicked in the shins by fifth graders. Two years ago, believe it or not, I did manage to score a goal. It was almost as exciting as having a book accepted for publication.