And here's Monday, back again so soon, the pest. Ah, well. I had a peaceable weekend and am refreshed for the editorial fray. The extra day I took last Friday was extremely helpful. Now I've got two finished poem drafts, and I even managed to send out submissions this weekend, along with a newsletter. I cogitated over my Donne homework, and I made a big dent in War and Peace, even though it was a part I was dreading (too many beloved characters die or damage themselves). I listened to two Red Sox spring training games and was pleasantly surprised at how scrappy my team is so far. I made bread and vegetable soup; I shoveled a lot of snow; I yacked with my sons; I fell asleep on the couch in the middle of a sunny afternoon.

Today, back to the grind: exercise class, then editing editing editing, then grocery shopping, now that I can get the car out of the driveway. This will be another long week at the desk, but the snowstorms seem to have blown themselves out for the moment, and every day the temps will rise into the 40s, so there should be much dripping and melting.

In Brooklyn,  P has joined a Saturday birders' club and excitedly told me about the merlin and the Cooper's hawk he saw in Prospect Park. Here in Portland T saw a red-tail with a rat in his talons, and another local friend watched a red-tail eating a smaller bird. I have been listening to a cardinal sing its "Jericho, Jericho, Jericho" song, and the bay is scattered with buffleheads and eiders. The birds are on the move, and they are hungry, and they are hungry for love.