Do I sit here; the glare from off the snow
Lights up my house so I squint. I could track
The world outside: A hand-cranked radio
Sits here. Instead I peer deep down inside
And let myself feel all that's going on,
What is and what could be. I cannot hide
In shadows on a day like this. I'll don
Soon coat and boots, my new sunglasses, and
Ride on Deep Blue to where my work awaits,
But now my pen and Field Notes guide my hand
To lead me to some stillness. 'Tis the Fates,
Not I, who should be brooding. Let it be.
There's nothing I can do but wait and see.