Sandycove Lane East

At the end of this lane I've never entered waits
the sea's blue bookmark, keeping my place. 

More clear, iron-cold weather, though the windscreen wasn't as frosted as yesterday. After dropping him to school, I made myself useful by bringing Sam in for a coffee and informal meeting with her staff. Later I picked him up and we drove to Dun Laoghaire to get his Star Wars mag, then a quick excursion to the Forty Foot. I told him he could stay in the car with Lola but he came down with me and we met a hardy swimmer going in for a dip. I heard another guy, heading back to his car, exclaim about how cold the water was, saying something like: 'Your hands are saying "what are you doing to us, get out of here!"' 

Later I finally finished correcting the first set of proofs, my fourth collection, just a month now till it's out. What to think about it, and where to go from here. Poems in prose? Who knows?