#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
Bird, of Paradise
It’s called pea soup, the thick morning mist I walk into, almost a rain and quite wet. I walk south into a headwind toward the resort where my husband has placed his mother for a few day visit. He is busy, and so I will go there via my beach and help her get dressed. Two birds excite me on the way: one, the egret wading in the surf; the other, an orange bird of paradise blooming just off the beach amidst the palms. The waves are raucous; making me vaguely nervous. Today I tweaked my Cherry Dress poem just a bit. Done? Then, I took stalk of poems I’ve been circulating that have not yet found a home, and those that are just in line to be sent out and hoped to get some revisions done and submissions out the door today, but it turned into a planning and preparation day for various workshops. And I’m missing a bit my friends who are gathering at AWP in San Antonio. Except I know it was right to stay here and I am getting a lot done. I have so many ideas and so much energy for poems and not enough time. Tonight, after taking my mother-in-law to dinner nearby, I let my husband drive her home and walked the mile back to our home in the balmy Gulf air under the palms and a bright half moon. I saw the mist sliding in and the stars for prayers in the black sky. I felt, thank you for this day and for the birds and the waves and for creative energy of my own and the desire to support others to find words and apply craft to tell stories. I think of Grace, my gratitude for mentoring her; a delight to help her use her voice.
