Thanks for those of you who reached out in the last few weeks about the Tony Hoagland poem. I look forward to sharing more poems. We are in the dark here. Each morning this time of year I rise in the dark, make my way down to the fire, tend the children who curl into me like seeds in their pods, warm up tea, find gloves, hats, jackets, navigate lunch boxes and streams of pajamas across the floor. This all happens in the dark. They leave in the dark. And I slip off to the quiet of my studio to start the day.