We shall not be using...

I received my first rejection letter today - an oddly formal note thanking me for the opportunity to consider my poems, Colorado poems perhaps not fully appreciated in Maine - no knowledge of Limbaugh Canyon or Chautauqua and Sundance Mountains. We throw ourselves into the unknown, our markers familiar only unto ourselves, like buoys defining river channels. I did not feel rejected - oddly. The direct rejection stings so much less than the perceived rejection, the haunting thought that perhaps ... some misunderstanding occurred. I live at the mouth of Limbaugh Canyon, the sun reddens Chautauqua and Sundance with its first rays. I am content here.