#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

November Charles, Late Afternoon, Daylight Savings Begins

“One autumn I turned fifty in the woods. Leaves of black ash, red maple blazed and blew onto swamp cabbage, stinking and wilting. Cinnamon ferns were browning and crisping, and I could tell there was time but no date in the woods –”

You can listen to my entire poem about turning fifty below:

I gained an hour of morning light; lost an hour of evening light. I walked at both the beginning and the end of the day’s light. Indoors, before walking this morning, I woke with an insight about my poem, a new line, gathered in sleep, and I worked on the poem before walking. I met my friend at Medfield State Hospital and we walked briskly in the frosted meadow, talking about writing, mostly, and the dogs romped along. Most of the leaves are gone; the ones that hang on are dull, but still pretty. Today I had the long stretch of an un-busy day to work on my own writing, on some submissions, and on writing of some writers I’m coaching. And that was a pleasure, to be involved in theirs as well as my own. I returned to my postcard poem - my series of post cards from the Gulf, and put that together for submitting for the first time, it’s long past ready and needs to go out. And so, I sent it to one or two places and felt so good to be sharing this poem and pictures. A reader of this blog wrote me a lovely message about her own life and her appreciation of my poems - she recently read my book. And she mentioned her age, her rite of passage birthday, turning fifty almost a decade ago, and I told her I would share my poem about turning fifty with her – my poem, written eleven years ago, shared above. In the late afternoon I made a soup, a new recipe, and Frank kept me company in the kitchen as I sliced the leeks and onions and cut up the carrots and potatoes, and then we packed my car full of all the pig food I’ve been collecting and drove it Unity Farm. Kathy, the owner, welcomed us in the driveway. “Would you like to feed them?” she asked. “You’re just in time for their dinner.” One month of pig scraps, saved in my extra fridge, and it makes one meal for the five or so pigs, including Osa and Leona, who run to gobble it up. We went home, walked the dogs to the river in the light just starting to change. I was so hungry for dinner, and the Winter Vegetable Stew filled us up.