I confess that I’m curious what a poet does about a third book? Is there pressure to find a press who will always publish your work? I confess that I don’t know if such a thing is possible.

I confess to liking the start of school even though I’m not a professor. Since enough of my friends teach — 95% of them? — I get excited and energized because they are excited and energized.

I confess to feeling more a part of my daughter’s school. Last year, dates and pink flyers and 10 a.m. concert notices and check-up forms zinged past me at a rapid rate. I had no idea what was going on and felt one step behind at all times. I did not recognize parent or child names. I had trouble connecting children to parents. This year, I know more people. I know to expect the pink forms and to look for the 10 a.m. concert dates and am finding this second year of primary school much easier than last year.

I confess I have a plan and that I’m not telling anyone besides the walls.

What is your confession?