RETURNING TO THE WORLD
This is what you wake to: the world new blue, the
streetlight nearly moon. Your book is
done, or nearly done for now. The world that
waited patiently went silent. The dream
you’ve tended through four seasons moved on to someone else. It’s the reader’s dream right now; you’ve let
it go. Mr. Marsworth. Reenie. They’re probably on a desk now in New York . Of all the writing seasons—first glimpse, the
wild beginning, writing and rewriting, seeing new and starting over--this one,
this perfectly done day, this moment of new winter when you wake to new blue silence,
this ending as beginning, it’s this season you love most. If you never wrote another word, you will have this. And isn’t that enough? How
beautiful it is. How faithful. How patiently it waited. How much it wants you back where you belong.
I got a shiver just looking at these pics, Sheila!
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