So far, so good with this weekend's writing retreat. I've got a lovely group of participants . . . compelling conversation, rich drafts, and so different from the tone of the retreat I led in October, though we're using the same poems and prompts. I love that.

We've got another session this morning, and then I'll turn over the back room to Paul so he can watch football and I can go for a walk. The wind is supposed to pick up today, with crazy gusts tonight. I've got a new poem draft to play with; maybe another will rise up this morning. I'd like to walk in the wind and think about them.

My next weekend writing retreat will be in early December: a get-together for this past summer's Frost Place conference participants. I'm going to focus on the sonnet, and I need to get to work on designing that syllabus. But I've got thoughts already . . .

It is such a relief to be teaching again. I have missed it so much, in these months of isolation.