Not long ago, on Father’s Day, I sat down and wrote a sonnet. A sonnet—my first. I didn’t share it with anyone (though I did mention it here), and I don’t recall if it was any good. And now I might never know, because it turns out that I’ve lost it. Yep, lost it—don’t remember which notebook I scribbled it in, cannot find it in my notes app or my blog drafts, it has just disappeared in the chaos of my daily life.

Meanwhile, I’ve become a published poet. (See how I just tucked that in rather than screaming it aloud, which is what I feel like doing?) My poem Old Dog is included in Escape Into Life’s annual anthology of dog poems to herald the Dog Days of Summer, where I get to share a page with some amazingly talented poets. I’m thrilled, honored, and inspired not just by this success of mine but by the beautiful work of the other poets in the collection. Please read them all; they are sometimes funny, sometimes, sad, sometimes shocking, and all marvelous. It’s hard to believe that I belong in their company.

Meanwhile, I’m writing. And noticing my world, which is both a necessary condition for the writing and a happy result. I spent the quiet part of this morning—the part when I was the only one awake—writing and editing, and forgetting to drink my coffee:

My coffee has cooled to luke
as I sat here writing poetry
energized only
by mindfulness
and productivity.#poetrycommunity #poetryislife #poem #Mindfulness #amwriting pic.twitter.com/2G7sfN7x7X

— Kim Kishbaugh (@kkish) July 21, 2019

I think I have two poems to show for it, but zero newspapers read. Church of the Informed Citizen is delayed by several hours, but we managed to walk our dogs in between rain showers, and I pulled the trumpet vine creepers away from a rose bush that’s trying desperately to thrive despite my utter neglect. Old Dog is now sleeping on the floor at my side, wrapped in the elastic vest that comforts her during storms, and the morning’s not an utter loss.

My newspapers beckon, as do perhaps new poems, and maybe I will eventually figure out what I did with that sonnet.