I can hear my husband at the front of the apartment.  He’s assembling a complicated Lego building, which means little plastic pieces are rattling together in the Tupperware he’s scavenged from the kitchen for sorting.  He’s playing Kacey Musgraves; he’s been going through a country-girl sort of phase (with my full support).

All three cats are lounging in sunspots in the bedroom.  When all the shades are pulled high, a nearly solid wall of sunlight shoves into the room.  I can hear the tinny growl of a tiny airplane engine, and beyond that, construction, and beyond that, the waves of the Pacific and the trolley’s occasional bell.  Pretty good day.

My husband has already posted it in several other locations (king of social media that he is), but I should declare it in my own voice too.  I’ve sold my first poem, and it was just published.  I’m humbled and thrilled.  It’s a short work about an AI who just wants to make you happy.