#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

. . . Let the flight through the sky end
in the folding of the wings over the
nest. . .

~ Excerpt from Rabindrinath Tagore: "Peace, My Heart"

Before dawn a very nearby barred owl hoots me awake through my open windows beside my bed. In my half-dreaming state I imagine someone is pressing a button for sound effects. But it’s truly and owl and the morning air is surprisingly warm and comfortable. So, I get up. My daughter agrees to walk the dogs early and I take the chance to go for a bike ride under a cloudy sky and passing the bright changing foliage. Later, she and I will go, our ritual, after lunch for a swim around the island. The dogs come. It’s warm but cloudy. What I love so much about my friend’s dock is the descent, standing at the top, seeing the state of the pond, seeing the scope of it too, the welcome. The wonderful treat of swimming as the leaves color and drop. I swam through a swarm of gold leaves freshly fallen on the surface. My daughter swam behind me. Charlie waited on shore. Then, the zest of our skin, except the water really was warmer than it has been. The ascent and the gratitude, the endorphin charge. I went home and wrote a draft of a poem from the letters to bring to tonight’s workshop. Went and got a flu shot and a percussis vaccine (for the new baby, it’s whooping cough). A busy day. Some Monday anxiety: a busy week ahead and one large unknown. Everything always gets done. The exercise, the time outdoors: essential for managing mood in a busy time. Doors open tonight. There’s an animal, bird or otherwise, something squealing in the woods. I love having the outdoors sounding its presence indoors as I drop to sleep.