That itch

is back and growing.

One of these days I'm going to be working on my novel or short stories again.

One of these days a poem is going to knock gently, but increasingly insistently, until I give it the ink it asks for.

One of these days I'm going to burst out in words again.

Skip told me today that he'd read about some author somewhere who'd said (something like): "A writer is like a milk cow... If you're really a writer, at some point you just gotta get the words out, or you're gonna burst; and best of all, is to release some daily."

Oh, for a daily practice! There will be a time in my life, I trust, I know, when I will have a daily writing practice. Here -- for all that it is not, and for anything it is -- is today's.

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