After the Gold Rush

I'm back from AWP but don't feel that I can write about it in any useful way until I've had eight hours of sleep and worked the 11th Step.

Meanwhile, a foot of snow in the yard, the moon rising and the wind at work, audible in the pines. As Paul Simon once wrote, Michigan seems like a dream to me now.

There, I've mixed my first metaphor.

Thank God it wasn't a Jack Daniel's and branch water!