And then, at the end of a day that I would least have predicted would end this way, I turned around from my desk before an evening poetry reading and discovered that the sun was making an appearance just so that it could go down.  And so I listened to the flame-haired poet read and did my best not to watch his flame-haired daughter watching him and watching us, and then I returned to my desk and my work, as I return now to my desk and my work, because in these days, just for now, the desk and the work are all, and plenty.