#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Oh, I found a feather on the path, a jay, so blue, and black and lovely with its white tip in the needles and gravel. Charlie and I walked over the trestle to the meadow and back, early. I was awake at 5:00. I wanted to take him before going to my friend’s dock. He was lighthearted and happy as we walked the path through the acres of Queen Anne’s Lace in wild bloom under the dark blue sky. And, by the river, I was so happy to see the button bush all in bloom. So, he was satisfied. And I thought I would ride my bike, but it started to rain, a fine rain, and so I walked instead, as I imagined how pleasant it would be under the trees in a light rain. And it was. I got to the pond and swam to the white buoy and back. It had stopped raining. I saw one of my friends, briefly, she had been running and just starting her swim. I thought I was tired and that I would walk home. But my body said run. So I ran home and felt so grateful for the energy and the desire and the discipline of this lovely summer practice. It was a writing day. I revised the poem from last week for an afternoon workshop. And then tonight, made the changes and put it aside. It’s better. But I picked another new poem to send for the workshop tomorrow. Tonight, after dark, Frank got home from tennis and we sat on the deck in the cool, damp air, under the sky filling with stars, and by the fire, and then my daughter joined us, sat beside me, and we had a lovely long talk about her life, her vision, her passion. She reminds me of my father, the way she sees into the core of people, who they are, and who they want to be. I ran my fingers through her silky long hair. This particular daughter does not always let me do this.