Spent my poetry time today with some early drafts of this summer’s work… looking at form, line breaks, etc., trying for a critical un-detached eye, sometimes succeeding. Its very hot here in Puycasquier at present so morning pages were replaced with a very early morning walk with the dogs –in the shade of the woods before the air became too hot for the three of us. Maybe there’s a poem in the way Crumble led me into the woods her way, determined that we should not take the first path, and Cookie, suddenly deciding she would come along, always behind, always at her meaningful pace until something catches her attention and she’s gone. We spent sometime in the sunflower field, amongst the percussion of end-of-summer heads. I’m still re-reading poems from The Singing … they're a good accompaniment to coffee and pain au raison.