Good morning from Vermont.

Inside the wall above my bed a mouse is running up and down, up and down, squeaking and scrabbling. Outside, in the distance, a barred owl is crying Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you? 

Life is trudging along here. I cook and clean, and occasionally I read a page from a book. But today will be a change: at noon I'll haul my zoom studio stuff to my sister's house, and I'll teach my chapbook class from there, while she takes my place here and spells me for dinner prep. This will practically be a vacation.

I'm hoping that recovery will advance faster this week. On the phone last night I was feeling so homesick for Tom. This is a hard job I'm doing, in more ways than one.