#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
It is a soupy splash of river and mud wet on the trails as Charlie and I walk in the April rain. I have not slept enough; awake early after staying up late. Before walking, I pop a quick batch of biscuits into the oven and cut up a melon. I like to leave something tasty and inviting for everyone to find on the kitchen counter when they start their day. My energy is low, I keep the walk short. My favorite sight is a beech leaf among all the worn down disappearing leaves lining in layers and layers of the forest floor: this one so wet and worn it’s like a veil and there’s a trace of bright green grass underneath it. Every bit of color that is bright is cheering on a bleak skied day like today. Instead of working on poems today, I worked on preparing for my webinar on Tuesday for the IWWG, Writing Monologues of Empowerment., my part of the Women Writing to the World Series. I have chosen three monologues to teach from and have lined up three readers to feature live in the webinar. So, today, my plan has come together and now I’m excited to teach it. I break for work and bake a batch of Toll House cookies, by request, and they are a huge success after a dinner of homemade pizza. My daughter helps me with the pizzas and she is good company. It’s Friday, and I’ve worked on poems quite a bit this week, in three workshops, and one feels finished, the one from last night I like so much, I want to get it to work, and so much of it is working, and yet I see I have problems to solve, things to discover. That’s the part I need: there is a secret yet to be revealed. And I must trust. And wonder. And wonder. It is there, under the veil. It is there, under the circles and circles of rain drops. It is here, under my skin.
