I woke early, and before walking, finished a poem about a meadow. After countless drafts and a few critiques, and after applying helpful ideas I finally let sink into my open mind, I felt a sense of completeness and the satisfaction that follows. In the sunny meadow, for awhile I watched some milkweed seeds swing in the breeze on their way to detaching. When they fly off and land will they sprout and grow and draw butterflies some spring day? Later, I opened an e-mail – a rejection on a creative non-fiction piece I sent some time ago. I didn't mind. Like the milkweed seed – not knowing if or when it will find the place where it belongs. I appreciate the lovely way it makes happy and full of wonder.