Why did I take the picture of the wind chimes, no wind? 

It's Wednesday, writing group on Farm Pond day. I walked early, at 6:00 with my friend, at Medfield State. Before she arrived I caught the sun coming through the tree in a holy blaze of light. There was plenty of time this morning, to walk, to talk in the appple blossomed woods. My friend is also the host where I lead the Farm Pond Writer's group. After our walk we drive home to get ready.

Then, I am sitting in her yard overlooking Farm Pond waiting for everyone to arrive. We must write outdoors in this bright sunshine and warmth in view of the placid pond, it's our habit for this, our third spring. 

And hanging, there by the unlit fire pit, are the wind chimes – not stirring,and their stillness is what's calling me. Waiting for inspiration. Anticipation is how it begins. In the absence of movement, waiting and hoping to be stirred.

I have brought the writers a prompt, some taboo-breaking poems about a woman's body; and they've brought their own photos, we're writing odes, we're praising today, each praising what she has to praise. Yes, praise is the wind for the chimes, the inspiration. I am praising my cervix. Because the cervix is at the heart of the essay I'm writing, have been writing for weeks. I don't have a picture of my cervix. Pity. I find one by googling. I write from that photo. Wind for my chimes.