I'm going to call the poet Billy Collins. I love his poetry so much and I know I'm not alone in that.

He's that rare thing in America, a best-selling poet. He was the U.S. poet laureate from 2001 to 2003 as well. He said that poetry is the home of ambiguity,

ambivalence, and uncertainty. And I think that wraps up quite succinctly what a lot of us are living in right now.

I thought it would be a great time to talk to Billy Collins. You're going to you.

Oh, Cheryl. Billy, it's so nice to talk to you.

I sort of knew it was you.

You knew with me.

Yeah, I can't say, I wasn't expecting your call.

You're just hanging out waiting for expecting your call.

You're just hanging out waiting for Cheryl to call.

Every afternoon.

Where am I calling you, Billy Collins?

I'm in my study in our house in a little town in Florida called Winter Park.

The street side wall is all windows so I got a good view of tropical or subtropical vegetation.

I'm, there's like Pygmy palms and I think two queen palms

and there's this red Bougainvia.

And very few cars are going up and down that street these days. More common to see families bicycling or dad taking his son down to the lake to fish and stuff like that.

It's like going back to the 50s.

Are you just alone in the house with Susanna just the two of you?

Well there are two cats, Francis, a boy and Audrey a girl.

Okay, so two couples, Francis and Audrey and Susanna and I get along a lot better than

Francis and Audrey. Thank God. Perhaps because you guys are still new leweds right?

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