. . . Oh
tiny
living
lightning,
when
you hover
in the air,
you are
a body of pollen,
a feather
or hot coal,
I ask you:
What is your substance?. . .

~ Excerpt from “Od to the Hummingbird,” Pablo Neruda

We walked into morning woods, sun beaming through green leaves, me and Charlie and Suzi and my daughter. A short walk with the dogs to the trestle bridge and back before my trip to my morning dock at my friend’s house. The teens have littered. We did not bring a bag. Must remember tomorrow. I take my bike, the short way, and one friend is on the dock. I stretch and write briefly, and take my nice swim in the still pond, the warm water, under the bluest sky. When I return to the dock, two more friends have arrived and we have a spontaneous and lovely chat and stretch. I am so grateful for this connecting time in the fresh lap of a new day under friendly trees. I ride my bike home, not the longest way, but long enough. The gardens need watering, and in the bee balm there is a tiny hovering, as Neruda says, a little living lightning, a hummingbird. I have planted such a plenty of bee balm around the property. In the afternoon, I type my notes for new poem from the handwritten notes I wrote from the dock on Monday. And I like the possibilities of it. I also prep for my monthly Aim for Astonishing webinar and create a great writing prompt: Desire and Craving. Tonight, the webinar is magical. Deep. Powerful connections. Very emotional, very uplifting and hopeful and juicy and poignant. The prompt fulfills its promise. I go upstairs, to bed, feeling so grateful to get to lead women into the power of writing from personal photos. To come away with such riches. We are all hummingbirds in the bee balm tonight.