I posted toward the end of December, rather hastily, that I would draw. Why did I fail, you might ask? I failed because I stopped. I stopped working toward my declared goal. There are many reasons for this. What I said I was going to do. I neglected to consider my timing.

My baby, and my books. This is the town with the house with the woman with the fire inside. She arranges her mornings with needles and flowers, becoming quieter. Everyday wishing there is more to life than this great lone pine. They do not talk to her anymore, nor do they visit her with apple pies. The future is a gray seagull, they say, the sun has gone to another.