#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

This morning, I walked in quiet. Step by step, listening. Before I walked, I opened my poem one more time and made some small changes. Acceptance: this is as far as I can go with it on my own. I sensed its flaws, but couldn’t fix them. It’s harder to see flaws in fresh poems; in the excitement of creation, the exhilaration, the poem is new and feel perfect. I found color in the fungus this morning, handing brightly from the trees. At my workshop in Concord, I was glad I brought the poem, with all of its imperfections. I got the help I needed. I’m eager to use the suggestions. Home, after lunch, I finished prepping for my poetry reading n Boston tonight: what a special evening it was! Dinner with friends in the city before walking in this supportive gang of friends to the salon. Inside, more friends, old and new, and the circle of chairs, listeners and readers. What I love about this salon, is that even though I was the feature, and got the gift of reading for a half hour, my reading is framed by “round robins” - poems read by everyone. Three rounds total. I loved that we all had skin in this game tonight; I appreciated hearing all of our voices in the room. We made time for telling each other poems tonight. Outside, the temperature dropped on the moist streets and a frigid wind blew up, and we sat in the lamplight, facing each other, listening.