I admit to being exhausted: yesterday's teaching gig was my first full day in public since I'd gotten sick, and it was sandwiched by two long drives. But it was also buttered by friends who babied me, and my students were a pure delight. This was day 1, when most of them were meeting for the first time, when the program and I were still suspicious unknowns. And yet from the get-go they leaped into the work. They chattered intently about poems, they wrote searching first drafts, they bubbled over with excitement about each other's poems, about just being in the room. Talk, talk, talk! Delight abounded; they were so happy to be there.

In other words, the magic continues. I am relieved and I am excited.

* * *

Today I'll pull myself back into regular life. I've got a massive stack of laundry to deal with, various desk errands to do, plus the eternal editing lying in wait. My hope is to feel rested and focused enough to go out to write this evening, though I slept badly last night, so we'll see. I really did think I had mostly recovered from Covid, but my friends up north thought differently, and maybe they are right. I'm not quite sure what regular me is anymore.

While I was away, I got notice that the Maine Arts Journal has published a collection of poems, curated by Betsy Sholl, written by several members of our Thursday salon. Betsy's essay explains how how our writing group has evolved, and the poems are illustrated by a few of Tom's photos. Maybe you'd like to take a look.