"Your mind is still in a haze, but your heart is starting to find some clarity", pronounces today’s psychic forecast.

Sunlight dazzles on the floor, on the slender spines of unread books of poems heaped there, as the crouched mind watches for fresh clearances in the heart in which the word can be seeded again, in which the forge can be fired again, and the thawed hands can fashion again a table, a plate, a bottle, a loaf of bread, a place of rest in these years of un-rest.