#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

As we walk into words that have waited for us to enter them, so
the meadow, muddy with dreams, is gathering itself together

and trying, with difficulty, to remember how to make wildflowers.
~ Excerpt from “The Meadow,” Marie Howe

My poems have waited for me to enter them. And now I wait for them to enter the world. Submissions, submissions, so many today, before and after my walk. We walked before rain, the meadow was wide open, mowed, and surrounded by foliage. The desert was wide open – wide and wider, no enclosure except purple, lavender mountains off in the great distance. I imagined feeling so wide open to possibility. There is so much to learn, so many things still to discover. Sixty, this frontier. Rain is reddening, deepening everything. Such brilliance. Phone conversations with two friends today, my heart is deep red. My husband, this time we have, this attention we give and receive. Autumn harvest time. What a flaming time, creative time, listening and being heard time. There was a lovely woman and her husband - elderly - beside us in the restaurant. When she spoke so kindly to the waiter, about the appetizer, I touched her arm, I agreed with her. We shared this moment of joy. And then we talked about movies, briefly, and we agreed about so much in these moments, we delighted each other. Kindred spirits. Well, we seemed to want to spend the whole evening, friendly strangers, talking, a meeting of minds and hearts. Reddening all around me. This is what I want: to read the red leaves, the deep red leaf hearts of the people around me. I will do it so imperfectly, and still try.