... by an unpleasant bit of stomach flu. The norovirus is going around this area, and I'm pretty sure that's what it is (which is a good thing in a way, as its incubation period is short enough that I can't blame AWP for it!).
Before this thing hit me like a ton of bricks (seriously, it was one of those "one minute you're okay and the next you're definitely NOT" things), I was having a very pleasant Sunday. I went out for brunch at the Runcible Spoon, where I had a lovely omelet and lots of lovely coffee and started reading D.A. Powell's new book, Chronic (about which I may have more to say when I finish it, but it's pretty great). Then I set the book aside and started drafting a something or other. Eventually I got up and left the Spoon and thought I'd drive home, but realized as I was driving that my head was definitely still in the middle of the poem & that in fact there was more. So I bypassed my street & went to Starbucks (because lately I write better when I'm not at home), where I had a skinny vanilla latte and wrote some more. I haven't had a chance to work on it yet (that whole "sick as a dog" thing sort of interferes).
So because I am still ill enough that my judgement is probably impaired, here's the draft. I'll take it down in a day or so, as per usual. I'm actually not sure whether this is my voice, or the protagonist in my current project. I'm okay with that confusion, though. (And actually I think it's more the persona. The snowflakes are all mine, though. And the fox.)