Things are really looking up with my dad. He's out of the ICU; unhooked from all of his cords, catheters, and monitors; eating solid food; and asking for his glasses and a George Eliot novel. When I saw him yesterday morning he was hoping to be discharged today, but they will hold him in the hospital until his digestive system is fully functional again. The hospital staff in Burlington has been so skilled and nurturing; I have only good things to say about how my dad has been treated there. I even felt a bit teary when we said goodbye to the ICU nurse.

So after a day of driving all over Vermont and then back across two states to Maine, I am sitting in my own house again. Like everywhere in New England, it is drippy and dank here; the towels smell funny and the banisters are sticky and the humidity is hovering around 1,000 percent. I've got a day to pull myself together, and then I'm on the road again for another band gig. It looks like my honeymoon of crazy poem writing is over, but my father's big smile trumps everything.