It rained all last night. A turkey invaded the yard. What is it after? Charlie, barking up a frenzy, was let out and quickly chased it away. I opened my poem and revised before walking. Everything was wet. This time of year, summer, thick foliage of the woods makes it feel as though I’m walking in a rainforest. Lovely dripping. I knew - had a sense - I’d run into a turtle today. And, there in the middle of the trail stood a painted turtle, cautiously waiting for us to pass. Charlie passed without incident. But I knelt for a closer look, and a picture. It wasn’t until I was taking the picture that I saw, reflected on her shiny wet back, the patch of blue sky. This gorgeous turtle made me feel happy all day every time I remembered meeting her, and that lovely patch of sky she’s carrying on her back. In the meadow the daisy fleabane is in bloom and the wild roses too. Tonight, I came away mystified from my Monday night poets. What to do with my poem. The consensus seems to be I have lost and not gained with this version. The windows are open to all the night sounds from the brooks and the swamp and the river. There is no breeze, but there is soothing noise. And now, the train rumbling down the tracks. Music to sleep.