Your Daily Poem Novels & Stories

I think you simply wake up one morning and you understand that it is time to go home and you go. I will know when I know. Until then: tell me about Jo. What she is doing. What she has decided about leaves and pinecones and buttons. Whether she has added words to Mama. What she thinks of the lake. Tell me ordinary things. I have been learning that ordinary things are the ones worth paying attention to. I am not yet good at asking for them. Consider this practice. — F. P.S. Three hundred and forty-one days. I count every morning. Some mornings the number is the first thing that tells me who I am.