#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
Goldfinch in the marsh
In the marsh the goldfinches flit from tree to tree in cheerful pairs. I woke from a dream singing a song to a stranger who was dying. It was a very graphic dream of tending open wounds with my bare hands and not recoiling from the gore. That’s why I saw this piece of weathered tree bark by the railroad track as I was heading home. How it reminded me of the man’s wrists and the bandages I applied. Later in the day, after I wrote my poem for tonight’s workshop, a found poem from the letters, I decided to write my dream down and when I started writing it was in the shape of a poem and I finished a rough first draft. Charlie saved me from possible catastrophe on the trail just at the brook. He was ahead of me, and when he ran into the snapper in the middle of our path, he jumped back in surprise, which stopped me, because I was not looking down until then, and there, I would very likely have stepped right on the turtle and wouldn’t blame him for biting me. So, thank you Charlie! We stopped and waited for the snapper to finish crossing from one side of the wetlands to the other and the brook was running fast and noisy and the turtle toddled to the brook and plunked in and swam away. Tonight my found poem from the letters was very successful. I love the season of maple wings hanging blood red from the branches.
