#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Meadow Ice

“I can't do anything
but talk to the wind,
to the moon
but cry out goddamn goddamn
to stones
and to other deathless voices
that I hope will carry
us all through.”
― Joy Harjo, She Had Some Horses

Meadow Blossom

Today is an earth day. Yesterday, tomorrow too. I walk the earth today. Goodness, what a wonder filled opportunity. It’s so windy in the meadow and there is not just frost, but ice, and a wintry chill blowing against the back of my neck in the open field without trees, and I don’t care, it’s fresh and energy-filled. I go out early, and I go out for a long time with Charlie. Across the trestle bridge, across the frozen grass puddled meadow where the ice is glassy and interesting and I stop to study its design but it makes me happy. I cross the street to the other meadow where there are trees white with blossom and sweet and distant puffed clouds over the green green grass. Earth day. We keep walking. I woke tired, but now I’m not tired. I go to a poetry workshop to make up a session I missed of the Thursday night workshop and I bring the poem I’ve worked quite a bit that has not felt finished, the poem about my mother-in-law and I get closer to being finished after the workshop when I make some tweaks. Perhaps it’s done. I’m going to proceed as if it’s done. I opened another poem as well today to revise for a workshop tomorrow night and liked it as much as I did when it broke down. It’s still a bit broken down, but I want to get it right very much. We took a second walk just before dinner, a slow and chatty walk that emerged spontaneously. My husband needed to stretch his legs after a day of Zooming, and then my youngest says she’ll come too and gets her boyfriend from his desk and while I bake the asparagus Quiche we walk across the windy field to the rippled river. It is not yet evening. A colder sky. We are working under one roof, strolling under one sky. Earth day.