Last night I went to my second session at that Thursday-evening poetry salon I told you about a couple of weeks ago. Maybe salon isn't quite the right word, but I can't think of a better one--a group of regulars who gather in the same place each week to write, eat, talk, and share new work. Would you call that a salon? Or would we need 18th-century hair to make that word work?

Anyway, I wrote a draft I was thrilled with, and came home so excited I could hardly sleep. Maybe this group is actually going to be a source for new poems in addition to being a cheerful social event. That would be such a bonus. Another nice thing: having a night away from meal chores and knowing Tom likes it when I venture out, even if he has to eat dinner alone. He's sweet that way.

So this morning I have a new vibrating draft, and sort of a day off. I do need to finish up the end of an editing chapter and do some class prep, but then I'm going to switch over to house stuff. I'll be teaching all weekend, so I need to get the housework done early, and I have six quinces to make into some kind of tart or dessert, and now I have a poem to revise too. Good thing it will be raining all day.

I'm hugging my new poem to my heart. I don't know why it felt so good to make.  But I do know why it felt so good to read it aloud and have the room explode into laughter and recognition. I need to make sure that doesn't become the drug.