with work, my desk piled
with papers and notes
to myself to clear
a space for writing. Snow
is deceptive, piles
of it outside the window
make me sluggish for work.
I need to stop drifting
and plow through the mess
I made here over 10 weeks
of teaching others about writing.
Writing is what I say I do.
I cannot regard others'
writing as more. I need to fall
back, drift away on the weather
that has been building in my head
and write what snow is doing outside.
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