This 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.