The House at Night with Palmetto The other night, I made my way out to the pool while David had a friend over to watch a game. The dogs trailed along, of course, and we sat at the edge. I put my feet in. They watched over me, anxious for me to get in the water and equally anxious that I should not. I felt the same -- it's still too cold in April. I prefer the warm bathwater of July and August, when I can get in without the shiver or sharp intake of breath. It's been a long time since I got in the water, and a longer time since I wrote in this blog, but the whole time the palmetto has been growing taller, and the sky has waited for me. For the past three years, I have been the president of the Poetry Society of South Carolina, and it has taken a great deal of my time. At first I was a whirlwind, riding the streets and acting as advocate for the society and for poetry itself. Year two, I slowed down a bit, and last year, I really felt myself coming to an end of it. I'm gra...