Today I saw a woodpecker forking insects into a hole full of screeching babies. All day long the sun shone on Frost's mountain. Believe it or not, people are warm and non-moldy. No mice have been sighted in the barn. My writing prompt poem was Rilke's "The Dwarf's Song." My prompt was "Write a poem about a body that isn't yours." I used the Stephen Mitchell translation, which might be somewhere on the Internet. You could look for it if you're interested, or I could email it to you.