I started the day by rescuing a hummingbird
That had been locked in the atrium all night
And was exhausted from beating
Its wings and head
Against the glass.
It rejected my offer of help last night.
Exhaustion and a cold night made it wiser today.
And freedom is its reward.
And then I walked Moppit, the philosopher dog
While counting the hot-air balloons in the sky.
And took a Pilates class.
And stopped at Buonforno’s for a latte
With Bastoncito de avellanas.
Delicious.
I wrote something funny/mean about Donald Trump
That I do not regret
And something important for a friend
Who is not happy with
The way this world is today
And wants to do something about it.
I gave another friend
Directions to the laundry.
A laundry.
There are so many.
All morning, I said
“Buenos Dias” and “Hola”
To everyone I met and didn’t care
If they returned my smile,
Though nearly everyone does.
And now it is nearly noon.
I could have stopped
At “I started the day by rescuing a hummingbird,”
But I’m glad I didn’t.
That moment when you realize the offbeat lead to a blog post that you have been struggling with since Thanksgiving isn’t really the lead to a blog post, but an offbeat poem that celebrates the particular insanity that grips us between Halloween and Boxer Day.
I have been asked today to discuss the proper way to traverse the Erie Canal, the 363-mile waterway that links Albany, New York, to Buffalo and the Great Lakes.

I have never been good with deaths, weddings, baptisms, or birthdays. Even holidays. Christmas always felt designed to highlight my personal ineptitude at selecting presents for people I love but should get to know better.