Anne Caston and I were together teaching and poeting, at St. Mary’s College of Maryland for the best years of our lives. She is from ”Deep Dixie” – as she likes to say with all its innuendoes—Anne likes to joke about the reptilian brain that comes to call when she sits to write. That is not true. More like an angel or a white swan is resting in this poet’s head, coming to the surface, then to paper, to raise wings and fly. In the meantime, Anne walks the sands of North Carolina, composing the next great thing.