#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Wind Chime in the Stillness

. . . A lively understandable spirit
Once entertained you.
It will come again.
Be still.
Wait.

Excerpt from “Was it Light?” by Theodore Roethke

Early alarm. Fog. I get up early to go food shopping when the supermarket opens. Doubled masked. Charlie gets in the car eagerly. He assumes we are driving up the road to Medfield State to roam the meadows and woods. So, when I turn right, instead of left, he stands up in the back of the car and starts whining. Poor Charlie. He doesn’t realize his food was picked up yesterday in a quick errand from the pet supply, and now, it’s the human food that must be gathered. It’s a big job. I hope this is the big shop before Christmas, and I won’t have to go back again. We get our walk, a couple of hours later, in the warming foggy light with all the snow and ice melting. I look and look for a photo, but it isn’t until I return home that I see the wind chime gong, hanging in stillness about the last of the snow. Stillness. Stillness. I go in. I have a busy day of running a rehearsal for an event for the Guild, and then running my annual December Open Readings for the Farm Pond Writer’s Collective. Normally, of course, a delightful in-person gathering by the fire of my friend’s candlelit living room with festive food and drink. We are on Zoom. And I’m so glad we are able to do this sharing with family and friends. Keep the ritual. I am grateful for that. The first vaccines were shipped today. We meet online and hope our June open readings will be outdoors, by our beloved pond, around an outdoor fire as the sun goes down.