My poet friend tells me in a letter how he left his notebook in one of his pockets while doing the laundry - how he dashed down stairs to retrieve it... I write back to him not to worry that the lost poems will turn up in the creases of his clothes. One shirt in particular would have an affinity. Be careful. I tell him, tuck it in gently the letters in some of the words may still be fragile. Button it with great esteem, wear it with your favorite bow tie. All the while I'm writing this crickets are strumming outside my window and I think about all the poems we could write on a scroll of sky.