i miss poetry. it is one of those things that requires a modicum of free time. you cannot sit down to read a poem when distracted. probably shouldn’t bother to if you are. but i have been visiting this book, a couple of pages at a time, and finding it a great comfort.

i worked something close to sixty hours last week. i hope that the holidays won’t be the death of me. hopefully next time i can point out my schedule and say hey… do you realize i’ve been here every day?

also, today’s writer’s almanac poem is lovely. it might finally be winter here too:

The White

by Patricia Hampl

These are the moments
before snow, whole weeks before.
The rehearsals of milky November,
cloud constructions
when a warm day
lowers a drift of light
through the leafless angles
of the trees lining the streets.
Green is gone,
gold is gone.
The blue sky is
the clairvoyance of snow.
There is night
and a moon
but these facts
force the hand of the season:
from that black sky
the real and cold white
will begin to emerge.


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