Waking thanks in part to W.B. Yeats

Who cares if I cry out loud
At the death of a man so long ago
Just to know he passed and was mourned
Makes tears flow

And much much more has brought this flush
The time the place the visions lost
Yet hopes are borne these long years past
Beneath the frost

In heat of January tides he left
Me here now under snow bound boughs
I hear his calamity and watch
His voice arouse

My soul and others too who know
He was just only just a man
But shrieking through he pushed for truth
I hope I can

So Done I Cry (The Death of WB Yeats) by Nancy E. McLennan 2001

And here I am.  That one was written in a chilly November almost 15 years ago.  It has taken me a long time to return to my work and here I am, scrabbling through piles of papers and electronic files.  As always, I have a goal in mind and I am nearing the finality of my nestling.  This will be my last attempt and nothing will stop me this time.

I am listening to Ooh La La - Faces.  It pulls me back even further.  I am wakening to my life.  It chokes me but it is also invigorating.