#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

“Brimming. That’s what it is. I want to get to a place where my sentences enact brimming. What’s it called . . . a meniscus? Where you pour the water right up to the top, and it kind of hovers there? Frost has that beautiful image about somebody pouring water into a vase, right up to the top (“Birches”). And it just trembles there. It’s that perfect fullness.”
~ Li-Young Lee, from “Breaking the Alabaster Jar: Conversations with Li-Young Lee, Edited by Earl G. Ingersoll

Trickster tricked me on the Butterfly Trail. My morning walk, bright sky, after some work on poems, not hot yet, but hot enough, I took off my hat, took off my long sleeved shirt, kept going. I had hitched my new sunglasses to a cord around my neck so as not to lose them. I went into the dry sunflowers, became enchanted. It was a morning like that, seeing so clearly for miles to the blue mountains, and seeing so clearly close as can be through my lens to the sun inside the sunflower. I would have stayed out there in the dust longer. But my glasses were gone. Not tied round my neck. Well, how could that be? I must backtrack. They must have left me when I removed my shirt. I hate to lose a second pair of glasses on this sun piercing trip. I will have to remember all the little dusty places I stopped to look. Soon enough, I step off the main trail, to a spot where I looked out to the mountains, and I step on my sunglasses. So, thank you, Trickster, for helping me lose them and find them. Now I will need to buy another pair, which I do. All day, except for my two walks – I go out in the later afternoon with my new glasses – I work on poems. Revision, mostly. But, in the afternoon, a brand new poem, I had only the title and some pictures of heart stones. It’s for my husband.