Welcome To My Bed

What I think about when the year has turned and the room is too cold.

It's warm in the sun but the wind bites hard. I forgot a scarf today, a pair of pants on the floor of someone else's apartment. I am full-to-bursting of so many good things, so much good news. Two shows this week, and the tour starts in earnest. There will be family in those seats.
There has been highway in my life every week as long as I've had my car. There are trips in the works--Nashville, North Carolina, New Hampshire. A wedding at the end of September, the first I've been invited to. I am eating. I am sleeping. I wrote two poems today, edited a third. I'm confident this will be a good year because of how it's started, all unseasonably warm and full of pillow talk. Telling stories in the haze of the wee hours clarifies the details somehow--the only words you can manage pushing past your lips are those attached to the most important things to be said.