- The smell of new books, remembering the way Husband would say you smell like bookstore when I came home from my shift in college.
- The potential of the blank page.
- Mentorships: one and hope of two.
- Harvesting in the garden: corn, sunflowers, pumpkins
- Bookstores, and at home, building my own library
- Poetry resumes
- Windows wide open and turning the fan down to sixty degrees at night, being able to use the down comforter again
- Six minutes to work
- more Shakespeare
- one month of wedded bliss (with a dash of normalcy: bed hogging, bickering about doing the dishes, and balancing the checkbook)
- wearing: black, charcoal
- framing poetry broadsides, discovering where to purchase them signed
- reading in bed, falling asleep on the sofa
- remembering the honeymoon, thinking of what it might be like to give it all up, move to a cabin on an island, eat salmon for breakfast, listen to the twig snap wandering through the woods, reading and writing and building fires
- autumn changes
- my new last name
- Margaret Atwood, how reading her books makes me hold my breath, makes me want to become that word-surgeon I speak of in my Brit Lit class, picking it all apart, explication
15 hours ago