I woke this morning feeling out of place. The house was the same. The room was the same. Me? Feeling not quite here. When I have this sensation, which seems to be with me more often of late, I reach for my favorite poet to see what words of comfort he might have. I opened to a new poem, "The Flaneur" and within minutes found myself strolling the boulevard. I realized I wanted to be somewhere , unable to think where, just somewhere. As I meandered through his words, I found I was where I wanted to be and all was calm. Thank you Billy Collins.