It's Wednesday. June 10. Summer (at least, that's what the temperature feels like). The hum of AC in the neighborhood breaks up the delight of bird song in the morning. I am at "pub date +1" - my fifth book in print, arrived yesterday. I feel like one of THE SECRET WOMEN - covid has kept me a secret (!) because I can't do public book signings, I can't (or shouldn't) go door to door and peddle the book! On-line or nothing. It's different than the last time, it will be different tomorrow and the next day. Change is always with us. So what will I write? The next book. And what will I read? Two volumes on my table. One volume in my hand. The poetry of Joy Harjo fills my head. Brilliant. Evocative. On point. When I need direction, I turn to poetry. And in this time of needing a directional signal, I'm turning to Joy Harjo.

SW