My poetry group meeting was the nicest ever: seven of us sitting outside till dark, circling our chairs around a smoky campfire--visiting, reading poems, laughing at the raccoon trio popping in and out through the garage window . . .

I brought in a poem titled "The bog is multitudes," revised from the drafts I created in Teresa's Frost Place workshop, and people really seemed to like it, so that was a sweet surprise as well. I'm actually pretty excited about that piece. More work is needed, but it's manageable work: I can see where the poem needs to go; I just need to boost it over the curb.

So this morning I'm feeling cheerful. I still have to spend all day editing other people's prose, but my poet life's been refreshed.