Yesterday morning involved a lot of talking to sons and not much writing of poems. Somehow I knew I wasn't going to get any writing accomplished. This mock-poetry-retreat week has been a dud. Still, talking to sons is one of my favorite things to do, and I did think about poems while I was working on Frost Place stuff.

Today we're supposed to get snow/rain/snow/rain/sleet etc., and I guess I won't be going anywhere. I might start rehabbing an apron on my new sewing machine. I might roast a chicken. I should enjoy this slow end to February because March will be busy. Two new editing projects are due to arrive mid-month, and I've also got a bunch of poetry events.

I've already told you about my Bootleg Reading Series event, on Tuesday, March 2, 8 p.m. EST. I'm excited to be appearing in such a stellar lineup, and here's the registration link if you, too, want to check out the work of my compadres.

Then, on March 13, 12-3 p.m. EST, I'll be leading a Saturday afternoon generative writing session for Wheaton Writing Academy on "Enacting Anger: Writing Protest Sonnets." This workshop will differ from the sonnet weekend that some of you attended last fall via the Frost Place as we'll be focusing specifically on protest writing. So I encourage you to sign up if you want to play around with prompts for channeling rage and righteousness.

In the interstices, I'll be leading a three-session writing seminar for a small group of high school students, "Say It Loud! New Poets, New Voices," under the auspices of Monson Arts. This is a closed session for one particular high school, but if you're interested in hosting a version of it in your school, please let me know.

But for now, in this Saturday-morning moment, I'm very much enjoying not planning for any of these events. Slowly, a pale blue day is breaking. I hear the approaching rumble of an Amtrak train, and now its clanging bell, and now its Doppler fade to the north. The white cat is curled up next to me in his yellow chair. Upstairs Tom and Paul are sound asleep. I'm drinking hot black coffee. The house is warm and the lamps are bright.