#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Charles River wetlands morning

“Like billowing clouds,
Like the incessant gurgle of the brook,
The longing of the spirit can never be stilled.”
― Hildegard von Bingen

It was dark when Frank left for morning meditation; Charlie had been out barking the animals away in the woods, waking me up. I woke into the breastfeeding poem I brought to workshop on Friday. I left the workshop feeling its faults, and also its strengths. Some resistance to change. The feelings were so present with me, I needed to work on it, get it more right. I spent an hour or so on it, and then it was light, and I think it is better. Now, I will let it sit, as I have to workshop to take it to for a couple of weeks. And then I went out and it was warm. I kept taking off jackets and hats and mittens and leaving them to be picked up on my return. The ground was softening. There were shreds of ice lasting, here and there, in the wetlands and I slid and slushed around a bit looking for pictures. And the clouds feathered over the blue sky above the swamp, and it was a very cheerful time. I remembered it was my brother’s birthday and sent a text. But also, it’s the day of my sister’s 60th birthday party. I remember going to the decade parties for my own parents. Now, it is us. And, tonight, all but one of the five of us was at the party, and we danced like we were teenagers.