#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Sunlit Leaf

“. . . As you walk, you make your own road,

and when you look back

you see the path

you will never travel again. . .”

Excerpt from Traveler, your footprints, by ANTONIO MACHADO, Transl. by Mary G. Bergand, Dennis Maloney

Quite cold and we walk the Charles Link Trail into the woods, out early, and the sky, this morning, is a royal blue over the river. Along the leafy path out of the corner of my eye, on the ground, I see a leaf that looks like it’s little lamp in a shade, lit from behind. It’s so gorgeous, I stop. Yes, a sunbeam is lighting it up. This pure happiness, beautiful leaf. It lights up my morning. And I go off to the Wednesday morning writers, ready with my prompt, it’s a good one, about paths. Paths taken, paths avoided, paths dreamed of. It’s a rich prompt, and the writing for most goes to a deep place. Wonderful variety of stories and poems about paths. (Readers, if you’d like me to send you this prompt, please let me know by e-mailing me at kellydumar@kellydumar.com.) In the late afternoon, I pick up one of the writers from the group who wants to join me at my poetry feature for Stone Soup, and we drive into Boston. What an adventure it turned out to be! I’m cozy and warm in bed now, still smiling about the fun of our mishaps, about the sweet outcome of this evening, this dark, dark, cold, cold evening. My google map failed once in the city, so finding the location was even more challenging in congestion. We parked, got the meter working, and arrived early, with plenty of time to spare. I was carrying my computer, my projector, my screen, and no gloves, but we got inside and waited. And waited. And Chad never came. Something was wrong. Finally, he called, and we realized I was in the wrong place! Well, we packed up all my equipment and then had to find our way on the street, down stairs, over a bridge, GOD it was cold! And dark! And now I was late! Well, finally, I arrived, and the small group was very friendly and Chad is the sweetest man, and I was so happy because my friend who was with me read one of her poems in the open mic, and this was a first for her, and it was wonderful. A fine poem and a fine delivery. And the heat in the gallery wasn’t working, it was blowing frigid air on all of us, and so while reading my poems I was shivering. Still, it was a sweet night, and Chad walked us all the way back in the frigid dark street until I found where I’d parked my car, and my friend and I laughed all the way home at this special night in the city. Looking back, a one of a kind night.

I love the expectant hush of the writing room