The trip was wonderful; I have no complaints. Tonight David arrives to visit for a bit, which should be nice, and at the very least will be distracting. :-) Since I do have tons of work to do, I'm going to go do it, but I'll leave you with a poem I wrote on the plane:
Flying, FallingThis strange landscape, these grey hills,
whisper of a promise forgotten.
Lit more by stars than
a child could wish
to walk their valleys,
I console myself blindly --
pleasure can subsume
for a sharper biting joy
that shrieks muffled within.
Turn up the lights, draw close the covers,
stir a cup of chocolate in a grey morning.
It is not a bad ending.
February 28, 1997