At Civitella, I moved a book-in-progress from rough constellation to working architecture, wrote an essay, and found that poems poured out of me. Mornings were for new pages; afternoons for cutting, reordering, and mapping chapters; evenings for reading and conversation with wonderful Fellows and staff. The steadiness of the days—quiet, rigorous—let me sharpen the questions, slow the sentences, and test the structure until it held. I leave with a clearer voice, a stronger draft, and a practice tuned to patience, precision, and care. Being a Director’s Guest felt less like a fortunate visit than a threshold—one opening onto the work, and the future, I’d been hoping to find.