The neighborhood is frozen up, every surface iced over and slick as grease. Somehow I've got to manage to get the recycling bin to the curb, a routine task that may be an epic one today. Let's hope the roads are better than the walkways, stairs, and driveways because T has to go to work no matter what.

This morning I've got a Zoom meeting about those writing samples I've been judging, and then I'm off the clock for the rest of the day. I have some poem drafts percolating, and planning to do for the teaching conference, and I ought to get onto my mat, and later out to the grocery store once the ice softens up, but the shape of the day will be my own. I'll be teaching both days this weekend, so I'm happy to have a little space.

Yesterday I received an updated registration list for July's Conference on Poetry and Learning at Monson Arts. We're doing really, really well--the conference is three-quarters full already, and it's only February. I'm pleased, and I'm excited, because this session will be breaking into new territory as far as my teaching work goes: lots of focus on collaboration and interdisciplinary work, lots of focus on how poetry extends beyond itself into other endeavors.

But I have to say I'm also happy to have a few hours to myself this week, to look inward, to burrow into my own private worlds.