In seven days I will be flying.

Here are things that must be done before I go to Ireland:

1. spiffing up some curriculum
2. unfathomable extents of grading
3. a bit of writing

That list doesn't sound so bad, except for the 'unfathomable extents' portion. It has dimension, depth, and incompletion. The grading is the big silent accusatory hulk in the corner of my preparations to leave.

"Don't worry about finishing things," a friend advised me, when I said I was worried about finishing things before I left. "Just don't."

Okay. I think I'll do that.

But in the meantime, while I should be grading,  I have also

• made reservations for hotels in Dublin and Sligo
• begun well-embroidered dreaming about what we might do whilst there:

Garavogue River, in Sligo Town

Sligo Abbey

on inishmurray island

inishmurray island

toward inishmurray island

And that's really better, honestly, than freaking out about the things I have to do on my short and yet nonetheless daunting list.

Ergo, a poem.