Get thee outside, blessed be the 52 degrees, and the full sun which shineth on thy pasty brow, and the light south wind to temper your warm work taking down Christmas lights and filling the bird feeder. And the Lord looketh down upon Benjamin and saw that it was good.
And the Lord sayeth ruminate upon thy garden from thy deck chair, rejoice in the $100 gift certificate to White Flower Farm, rejoice in the $150 gift certificate to Heronswood, prepare for the sowing so thy might spiritually reap the flowers and the birds and the foliage and the butterflies, and He saw that this, too, was good.
And prepareth thyself a bounty of blessed travel, go to a great fellowship at the largest AWP writers conference this century in New York City later this week. Partake of the multitude of skilled writers and editors (whom you shouldst stalk / hobnob with excessively, but not egregiously), the Statue of Liberty, MOMA, The Guggenheim, The Met, forgeteth thou that the USS Intrepid aircraft carrier museum is being refurbished and its sleek jet fighters too, for these are excessive pleasures and sootheth not the soul as thine sculpture, painting, and winterized botanical gardens, and taxis, and dangerous jaywalking, and ice skating at Rockefeller.
And this too, is good, that Benjamin receiveth no rejection letters lately, his cat pukith slightly less this week, and that he has again begun researching his memoir. Surely goodness and mercy follows wherever he goes.