momma said there'd be days like this

There'd be days like this, my Momma said. When, with too little sleep bolstering me, I couldn't, I wonuldn't (even though I had to) do my work. I tried for all the hours of the morning: I read papers, I read poems, I revised syllabi, I devised new essay topics, and had miles more to go before I could sleep. But those woods drew me in, those skeins tugged at me, that still seat on the sofa beckoned; and I was gone, from the desk, from duty, from the day's determined path. Couldn't, wouldn't. I caved, I gave over to crisp cables. (But, she rationalizes, it's "work, " so it's okay. I'm teaching a class on making this sweater; I HAVE to make one.)

So, yesterday was a struggle between ought to's and want to's, and the want to's won. With many nice cables a-building, and a good night's rest, I today return, relieved, to work. The dawn now is tinging everything with a rose hue, the same rose hue hidden in the Jamieson's Heather Tweed Cedar yarn I've been knitting with: nice.