This Time

Ph02513jThis time of year is always the hardest for me.  Even though we don’t have a true winter in Houston, there’s the seasonal ebb that draws memory, mind, and body along with it.  I go through phases in which I stop reading and try not to think so much.  Maybe it’s a human version of hibernation.  It affects the passage of time.  My perceptions go syrupy.

However: last month I started leading a weekly poetry workshop, and that experience has been uplifting for me.  I find myself looking forward to Wednesday nights.  Some of you asked that I post the agenda and exercises, and I’m going to make that happen one of these days.  Soon.

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