A big thunderstorm rolled through last night, and this morning the air is wet and cool, almost chilly. I slept badly last night--I don't know why: maybe the storm jolted me awake, maybe my too-busy thoughts. Unfortunately I've got a full day ahead, and I'd rather be starting it with a good night's sleep.

This morning, first thing, I'm meeting with my friend Julia about her big epistolary-poem project, which just got a massive amount of funding from the Academy of American Poets. There will be a lot of work for me in this--coordinating the young-writers arm, running some workshops--and our meeting this morning will start figuring that out. And then I need to dash out to a brunch party for a visiting poet, and then I need to dash back and get some editing done and finish cleaning the house in preparation for my son's arrival tomorrow. The day will be filled with opportunities to be ditzy and scattershot.

The summer is flying away. Suddenly everything is so urgent and rushed. It's exciting but it's also overwhelming, though maybe that's just my sleepless night talking. I'm worked up about seeing so much of my boys. I'm worked up by all of this poetry teaching that's falling into my lap. I'm worked up about having another poetry collection in the world. I'm worked up about being overbooked, even though last spring I swore I'd figure out how to keep that from happening again this year. Fat chance, apparently.