There once was a farm in Havre de Grace
Where writers could go and ideas they'd toss
Around in their heads
And sleep in warm beds
And remember that they are, in fact, human beings with a capacity for feeling, an appreciation for nature, and the ability to respond to a life that is immediate and real.
A friend of a friend (a Sarah of a Hannah) very kindly invited a few people to her family's farm in Maryland this weekend for a writers' retreat. There are no words to describe the loveliness of the weekend. I wrote the above limerick* in their guest book because if you can't think of something to write, it's always better when your dumb idea rhymes.