A Tepid, Sunny Sunday in January

Dear Claudine,

I hope that this letter finds you well. I’m feeling a little melancholy today. I think it’s a combination of the icy weather we didn’t get and the fact that it’s Sunday. Sadly, the sun is out today and the temperature gage reflects an underwhelming 56 degrees. I hope that wherever you are, it’s a chilly 20-something and the snow is quietly blanketing your surroundings. “Filling the fields you used to know…” and all that. Did I tell you that I’m one of the judges for a poetry contest sponsored by a groovy art magazine? Well I am - and it’s nothing to brag about; but I just realized this morning that the deadline for the ballot is in on your birthday: Monday, January 29th. Is there a large celebration planned? Or maybe just an intimate affair with family and friends? My feeling is that it’s the latter. In my version of your party, after dinner everyone is gathered into the great room by the fireplace. There you charm everyone with “Nothing to Lose,” accompanied only by guitar. Wish I could be there! So far the poems I’ve been reviewing haven’t been so great. I tried to imagine you singing a few of the better submissions, but it was unable to change my indifference to them. Maybe I should wait to read any more until our projected ice storm tomorrow night. A tepid, sunny Sunday in January is not the ideal day to be reading poetry – amateur or otherwise.

Love (is blue),
Bradley