Monday morning again; and I am relieved to say that finally, after what feels like weeks, I slept through the entire night, 9 to 5: no pacing in the small hours, no snapping wide-awake at 3:45; no tossing and sighing amid the sheets . . . just a long unbroken sleep, and a hazy dream involving my aunt Connie and a lint roller.

I'll be back at my desk today, editing a novel and working on Frost Place stuff; plus probably mowing the overexcited grass, undergoing my exercise regimen, hanging laundry, making bread, all the usual stuff. I am done with teaching till the end of June, not traveling till my nephew's graduation next month. This will be a new and quiet life, and I am hoping I can make use of it creatively, once I get my editing patterns set.

A few dreams for this summer: to pull together a version of a next poetry collection, to read Anna Karenina with my boys, to walk home hand in hand from a minor league baseball game, to make gazpacho, to wear flowered skirts, to watch the moon rise.