...to you. It's a bright morning. Raining leaves. Just outside my window a Ruby-crowned Kinglet is singing a strange version of its song. I'd like to think it's daring me to be as brave. I just looked over yesterday's notes and poems. I can't believe how much I wrote in September. It was one of the most productive months I've had in years. Looking back, I see I didn't get rolling until well into the month. I couldn't resist reading the latest comment on my procrastination post again. It makes me chuckle and I haven't even seen the cartoon.
This morning I've been thinking about the latest articles at Northern Poetry Review, the world of parasitic weeds and the jar of home-made salsa we were promised, how we come to recognise genius, the earth at night, visual attention, the state of the hotel we stayed in last week and the pros and cons of open access. I revisited The Memory Orchard. It, too, left me thinking.
The kinglet is moving off. Perhaps it's time to get down to work.