#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
Charles River Morning
How you came to know all that you are sure of
how you discovered the darkness of green
uncurling into the daylight out of
its origins unsounded as your own. . .~ Excerpt from To the Moss, W. S. Merwin
The forget-me-nots, the tiny, blueish, cheerful beauties, are still blooming at the brook. They last and last through summer. Before.a short walk with Charlie, I planted a few mums that I bought yesterday into the planters. It feels a little early, but I put some pumpkins out with them. Welcome, September. I am welcoming you. It was a little cooler, but hot in the sun. I took Charlie around the yard and went back indoors to work on poems. Made many submissions and tweaking the poems of this new collection. This made me tired. And also, I felt, I just need to do this work. I’ve been over and over these poems so much I’m, perhaps, making improvements. But I’ve lost perspective too. Mid-day, I got on my bike and rode to my friend’s house and she invited me into the moss garden in my bare feet. Two others joined us and we all sat in the midst of the green soft moss under our feet and our heads under the sky, surrounded by the trees and we talked about our summers in this pleasant air. The moss has a way of surrounding and staying present with you. I feel it still, this immersion, a bath that lasts in the sense. And then we swam, a hearty swim, I made in the cooling water that felt so fresh. How much longer, I wondered. How much longer will I enjoy this pond water, this fabulous exercise in such beauty this year? Every swim I’ve taken stays with me. Every swim I’ve taken has strengthened me and made me glad and grateful to be in my body.
