After a two-month semi-hiatus, I return to the countryside and prepare to resume work on my anthology. “Autumn” is yet unfinished. I had hoped to complete the poem in January, but February is more likely given my poring and deliberate process.

A hermit, I am inclined to hoard rather than share myself. I appreciate the company of others, but the interaction feels unnatural—forced and draining. It takes me days to recover.