Eleventh of January. All those ones lined up, waiting to turn to something else...
It's been a day that's felt like a day for ending things (responses to copy-edits for Shrinking Violets went out). And with endings comes the prospect of new beginnings.
A friend reminded me that this is the date (in 1935) Amelia Earhart flew solo from Hawaii to California. Of course, I take this as a sign that it's time to work harder on turning the poems from my chapbook about Amelia into a full-fledged collection.
Tonight's fresh coat of snow, and the way the sky is so bright -- the photo was taken without a flash or tripod (thus the blur) -- all help contribute to the feeling that we are on the brink of change, one that will carry us forward to better things.