A texted photo of the dogs asleep,
Their legs askew. Laughing in awe and mirth
At strength and balance, sitting in a heap
After I lost my own, upon the earth.

Dramatic readings of e-mails from work.
Absurdly wonderful orchestral fusions.
Receiving e-mailed queries with a smirk
From someone next to me who’s in seclusion.

Professor Hil says writing fiction is
A direct line to joy- a phrase so apt
That perfectly encapsulates the fizz
Of finding an idea that’s untapped.

To do so on one’s own is quite exciting,
But doing so with dear friends is uniting.