O western wind, when wilt thou blow,
That the small rain down can rain?
Christ, that my love were in my arms,
And I in my bed again!
I'm still here in Colorado, far from home, attempting to get my mother's paintings gathered, her house laid straight and clean, and her business settled. Thank you so very much for your kind many words, both here and via e-mail. I hoard them, and will -- yes, really, really will -- be responding!