So when I pulled the prompt this morning, nothing sparked. And then time collapsed into one thing after another. I noodled on it once or twice but really, I let myself drift in the flow of book writing friends from all over the country here for the TLA conference. It was gorgeous. Rich in connections and laughter and truth-telling. So now it is the end of the day and, yes, I’m a tiny bit tired but really, today the prompt is the poem. I can’t improve on it.
As it is.