Vox Populi has reprinted my poem "Mr. Kowalski" in today's online issue. In the meantime, I am sitting up in bed in a hotel in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, listening the sound of the wind whipping at the flagpole outside my window. I wonder how cold it is at home. Rushing back to the hotel after last night's dinner, clutching Tom's hand as we craned forward into an icy Atlantic gale, I was not sure that anyone could have been colder than we were. But probably the temperature was a cozy 5 or something.