...some beautiful things in recent days, so beautiful it seemed a crime to blink. A wolf spider the colour of a dirt road crossing a dirt road between snow-filled ditches. The ice-laced snow lingering over the melt water. The poems that arrived in my inbox. It all became more beautiful each time I thought of it. Then I read Andrew Motion's review of Seamus Heaney's latest collection. His words on watchfulness in the final paragraph left me squinting, blinking and terribly aware of all the time my eyes spend closed.