I make French Toast I make yogurt I crank up the wood oven to bake last night’s potatoes I make tea I drink it and steep it again I write a few sentences, check the yogurt I put clean dishes away Maybe I will wash the dirty dishes now Or I could take the dogs out Perhaps I’ll sweep the floor I have to go pee again. Soon, though, everything else is done And all that’s left to do Is write. One word at a time. It’s the only way. I know how.