Ten.Two Hundred

1. More snow. Not a lot but just enough to be a nuisance and so I run outside to push it all away with the shovel. But it's still cold and it doesn't take long before my fingers begin to burn.

2. Tuesday's are my favorite days.

3. The drive to Naperville is slower than usual. Brake lights. Snow flying off of tires. But there is just enough yellow light from the sun to make it bearable. 

4. Not my whole arm, just the inside, right below the bicep and just about the elbow crease. 

5. I step inside the kitchen and think, "how can I make the rest of my afternoon more beautiful? When I return, what will make this space feel more full of ease?"

6. The tulips are drooping and reflective of my own state of being today: bright, soft, fallen over. 

7. But tonight we'll gather and it will be good because it's always good. At least it's always good for me. 

8. "Our poems formulate the implications of ourselves, what we feel within and dare make real (or bring action into accordance with), our fears, our hopes, our most cherished terrors." - Audre Lorde

9. The hour goes almost too quickly. My  writing is rectangular. Meaning that I write and then box it up. Make it a container to revisit and explore on some other day.

10. Today is day 200.