I've resorted to escapism. The day passed smoothly, the weather unexpectedly beautiful, daffodils, tulips, dogwoods, red buds, tulip poplars all bright, SUN, towering trees leaving out -- the thaw made life!
But tonight, after being dragged all over creation today, Maeve will not sleep. She's sweaty and screaming in her bed still now after an hour and a half. I've rocked her, given her a pacifier, burped her, held her, sang (which seems to make her mad) -- nothing. And, of course, it's contagious. Silas is whining "moooommmmmy" from his bed. Poor Ben is fevered in another bed (but fortunately not yelling). Eden is coughing from her corner. So with no where to go, I am now sitting outside on the front stoop listening to some squeaking creature in branches above me -- squirrels? bats? (though they sadly are struck with disease) -- something I cannot see. The sky is still a bright whitish-blue but the earth has dimmed and my computer screen is glowing. I have a glass of wine and of water, a sweatshirt and couch pillow, a journal and volume of poetry. Tomorrow I'm supposed to send a friend work. It will be the first poem I've exchanged for *ages* and so far I have nothing to give. So, I suppose, it is time to turn my attention there. Cheers to an outside warm enough to sit in, to chirping settling sounds of night, to the sleep that is bound to come.