#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

“…High up the air is motionless, a sheet
Of light. The east grows yellower apace,
And trembles: then, once more, and suddenly,
The salt wind blows, and in that moment’s space
Flame roofs, and poplar-tops, and steeples three;
From out the mist that wraps the river-ways,
The little boats, like torches, start ablaze.”

~Excerpt from Lizette Woodworth Reese, “Sunrise”

Neither of us could sleep and yet it was dark; the tide shushed in and out, rolling along outside our sliding glass door. We woke, talked, waited for sunlight. He listened to me talk about poems, what I’m working on, the letters, wondering if I’ll continue, weighing and balancing my choices. When the light came up over the Gulf we rose and he went off to his tennis, I went off for my walk in the sun rising early peace and pleasant air; warmth has arrived. No more cold feet. Tide is low, shells plentiful, crunching under my feet as the sky flames orange over the palms and grass. Today, with my daughter, we pull the kayak out of the garage, roll it out, carry it over the footbridge, over the grass, over the sand and set it in the water. A wave laps at it, fills the floor of the kayak. We dump it and sort out the best way to get in, and then we’re off, up the coastline, we have packed a lunch. We hope we’ll see a dolphin or two. We paddle past Beer Can Island, we paddle to the Longboat Bridge, we paddle under it, we paddle into and out of the sweet lagoon, and then we go into the Bay and paddle across, past the pelican Island, where all the pelicans lounge in the trees, and then my daughter shouts with glee–there! And just as we enter the canal, under a dock, a dolphin is swimming. We stop and watch the dolphin dip and rise, dip and rise, slowly and gently and peacefully. We sigh with satisfaction, and paddle on toward the landing where we lift the kayak onto land and pull it home. A sweet thing happened on my early walk. A sand dollar washed up whole near my feet and the bubbles rose from one of its slits. I took a picture and then, when I left it and walked on, a woman walking behind me asked, you’re not going to take it? And I said no, and she took it home with her. Today was not a writing day. It was a talking and listening and open hearted playful day because I didn’t want to miss this time of glittering peace on the water with my daughter.