#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Charles River

I got a draft of a new poem or lyrical prose piece today. From an Easter picture, it follows the Easter picture from my childhood poem I wrote last week, except this one is a contemporary picture from Easter a year ago of my daughter. I feel grateful to have a draft to fuss over until Monday.

Today I felt fresh and cheerful, unfurling in the rain like the ferns. The river is swollen. Tonight it’s pouring a drenching rain. I started by making a brush pile. Frank keeps hoping to to burn. But the days rain on. I dragged big broken branches into a pile by the river and then I walked in the muddy woods with the anemones in bloom.

. . .
In a dim age 
of water 
the brook sings loud 
from a rib cage 
of giant fern; vapor 
climbs up the thick growth 
effortlessly, turns back, 
holding them both, 
house and rock, 
in a private cloud. 

At night, on the roof, 
blind drops crawl 
and the ordinary brown 
owl gives us proof 
he can count: 
five times--always five-- 
he stamps and takes off 
after the fat frogs that, 
shrilling for love, 
clamber and mount. 

. . .

Excerpt from “Song for The Rainy Season,” Elizabeth Bishop