Word Raccoon woke up feeling…contemplative.

She eyed the leftover birthday cake and banner.

She made a mug of tea.

She sat down with Sylvia Plath and Wallace Stevens on her mind, apparently.

She pounded out four poems to ease her heart.

They weren’t about what she was thinking of, and yet they were scented with it. (That sentence is awkward as hell, but I don’t know how to fix it…no time at the moment.)

As always.

She sat, a little stunned, because these poems, while rough, seem to have heft, if she can be forgiven for saying so.

She remembered that yesterday Poetry Habitat graciously posted my (not hers, no matter what she says) poem, “Rooted.”

It’s about when my son first came to us, even before we adopted him, though I knew the moment I saw him that he was mine, my child. I just did. (With my eldest, same.)

Turns out, I was right.

WR says we always are. But mine has different shadings.

Gosh, WR, don’t be so deep. LOL.

Anywho, here’s the link. https://poetryhabitat.com/2025/11/20/rooted/

And thanks again to Poetry Habitat for giving this poem so dear to me a home. And for wishing me a happy birthday. That’s an editor to be grateful for!

And in the meantime, WR and I are going to scoot. We’re off to see Wicked for Good, even if we did get a peek at a review that panned it, though we didn’t mean to. We want to form our own opinions.

Also, we asked to cancel the dinner reservations. WR wanted, just for today, to go someplace where you order at the counter, not where she has to (try) to keep her dinner napkin in her lap.

WR, why do I waste culture on you?

Wish us luck, we are also going jeans shopping today. Thankfully we found these black jeans in our closet from the thrift shop that are a size down.

She’s insisting on wearing our purple furry jacket, which is fun but I’m not convinced fits and is probably going to shed. We’ll see.

I drew the line at her signature earrings. Sure, we can wear earrings, but not those big balls of fluff, not with the coat.

She’s pouting, but she’ll survive.

Until she finds out I’m not sneaking candy into the theater.