“but there is in me something that feeds on the now of things.”

― Richard Hugo, The Triggering Town: Lectures and Essays on Poetry and Writing

I wake into another day of October golden light. The canopy is gold and the sun beams through it, it’s a shower of gold light, walking the leaf strewn path and very wet. The woods are damp and bright. Monday morning, after a busy weekend, and I’m not feeling rested, but I am feeling delighted the light blue sky. We keep going. In my head, thoughts of all the quite a few things I didn’t get to this weekend that I had hoped to accomplish, and the list growing. So, when I pass the hidden brook, the one you can hear gurgling, but you can’t see it, and you have to push through some branches to find it trickling over the stones, when I got to the brook I just stood and listened a bit so I could take the brook with me today. In the hopes of staying mindful of just doing the next thing on my list. And trusting everything would get done. And not everything did get done, but the day passed with many things getting done. Including opening one of my new poems from New Mexico and tweaking it a bit for tonight. A poem about my husband’s heart. And I brought it, and felt the feedback was just right and helpful. I see how I can make it better. Some of the comments I didn’t agree with. I will consider it all and make the poem better. My spirit is feeding on the now of the foliage. And the now of my gratitude for the restored health of my husband’s heart.