I woke up after daylight, with the cat cramping my knees and a robin cheering and chortling outside my window. I know it's 28 degrees out there, but birdsong and the cast of light cry Spring, spring, and this week's forecast is for ever-increasing warmth.

Now, as I sit here in my couch corner with my cup of coffee, I can still hear the robin burble into the chilly air, his exuberant song overflowing like a sink. The wind has died down, and the operatic tree branches, which yesterday had been whipping and groaning, now stiffly crayon the sky.

I'm happy to be sitting here idly. I got a bunch of stuff done this week, and I've got a bunch of stuff to do next week, and it's nice to be on recess, though I'm pleased I made progress with my giant to-do list. Importantly, I managed to conduct four exercise classes for myself (Wednesday was the exception, as I was in someone else's house), so that feels like a big success. Work and travel will sometimes interfere; but if I can create a challenging, varied weekday routine for myself, I won't have to go to a gym or watch online videos, neither of which interests me in any way.

On Wednesday evening (April 12) I'll start teaching that three-session zoom workshop I told you about, on writing a series of poems. Apparently there are a couple of spaces left in it, so if you're interested, sign up here. On April 27, my writing salon, now known as the May Street Poets, will be holding a free session at Back Cove Books in Portland: "Writing in Community: An Evening of Prompts and Sharing." This is for anyone, in any genre, who wants to try out the notion of writing in a group setting. On April 29, I'll be leading a free epistolary-poetry workshop, on zoom, for the Maine poet laureate program. And, hey, don't forget that the Frost Place Conference on Poetry and Teaching is open for applications, and will be taking place in person, finally, after three long years on zoom.

In the midst of all this, I'll still be working with my Monson kids, editing manuscripts, planting my garden, and taking my young people on a jaunt to Acadia. Maybe you can see why my couch corner is so extremely pleasant just now . . . though I've got to fork myself off it shortly and launch into hanging-laundry action, emptying-dishwasher action, and so on and so forth, before T and I meet up with his parents for a day on the town.

I hope you have a sweet weekend, despite the national news. Hang on to what you love. It needs you.