Today I am drinking milky sweet tea and standing in a square of winter sun. I am watching a pair of mourning doves puffed into the cold and balanced on the fire escape. I am trying to sew words to a man, serge them with a smell, pin them to a dark turning of a pair of spoons in the kitchen drawer.

It is time to go to work, to do one of the things that makes me who I am. But first, just a little more time in the light, here, it is so brilliant.