The traveling sorta did me in. I was with relatives, and I didn't find much time to myself. What poems I wrote got written largely while I was driving. I mean, literally, sometimes. Little scribbles that would tide me over until I could pull over and write longer scribbles in my notebook.
Then I got home and was pretty much sans inspiration. I would love to make better excuses, or even to be sorrier. But so it goes.
I'll try and play catch-up, a bit, in the next couple of days. And I will probably continue on into October. My friend Joan has sent out a list of poetry prompts that might get me going for another month. (A month that will be crammed with travel and work and the usual stuff one has to work around--or draw from, if lucky.)