Morning came early. I woke into bright daylight, having stayed up too late working on my two riptide poems. I had to wake the girls, leaving today, and we promised to walk first. General reluctance, sleepy heads on the shore and the birds perky and picking their breakfasts in wet sand and surf. It was a shortened walk of rich finds: egg cases, shells and unbroken sand dollars. On Beer Can Island there lives the most wonderful wood of broken trees, salt washed and worn wonderfully into shapes. I found this woman’s face in the wood. She seems to warn of a terrible sickness circulating on earth. After breakfast, I let the girls go. We laughed so hard all weekend; I will miss that and more. I have a busy day. My poem(s) ready for tonight; I will bring one of the two that are connected. And that’s what I do. The consensus is, a strong revision. Yay! I feel that too, satisfaction. Some more small tweaks, perhaps. I’m so happy with my revisions over the past few days. I take a second walk, a longer one, in late afternoon to stretch my legs. I find a sandcastle complete with fresh lemons. I find a heron sneaking up on a fisherman: welcome comic relief. From home, a message from my son: Suzi’s joint pain is acting up. Queenly, she’s getting her river walk in a chariot.

After the workshop tonight, I take a dish of chips, my snack, and walk to the water under a veiled full moon, a worm moon, bright as a spotlight even covered in clouds. I say a silent prayer for all the people who are sick, and all those I hope will stay well.