One of my favorite Robert Frost poems is “Flower-Gathering.”
It’s one of the few poems that I have by heart.
For the past week and a half, I’ve been walking around the house muttering the same two lines of the poem over and over: “Do you know me in the gloaming/gaunt and dusty grey with roaming?”
I’ve been working on a novel rewrite.
I am gaunt and dusty grey.
I’ve been wandering through hills at dusk.
I’m working to gather flowers.

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