. . . the cloud sheaves
in heaven’s fields set
droop and are drawn

in falling seeds of rain. . .

~ Excerpt from “Autumn Rain,” D.H. Lawrence

Wind, did it keep us all awake, thrashing the branches, blowing rain, rain, heavy rain all over the yard, garden, woods? Power, here, in this house, stays on. Dim light in the morning, outdoor pillows tossed around the deck. Trees heaving still, rain has not stopped, but it’s lighter. It’s the wind gusts. Charlie is frustrated, wants to go out. But, not in the woods I’m afraid. Quickly, I send an e-mail to move the Charles River Writer’s workshop to Zoom. I imagine the roads are bad, and then I find out. I decide to run at the high school track; I do this during storms that make the woods dangerous. Charlie’s mad. No help for that, no dogs allowed. There is traffic, and detours. I have to drive a long way around road closures from downed wires and trees. I get my run on the windy, wet track. I’m alone and wet and grateful to be out. It’s a powerful workshop with the writers: silence is our theme and writing prompt and it works well. After, no clean up! Frank and I have lunch in his office and he isn’t rushed and we have time to chat about travel plans. Today I have the chance to rehearse a couple of the monologues with actors/writers for tomorrow night, choose the order of show, manage some final details. Make a minestrone soup and popovers, a meal for an after-storm night to warm us up, especially, the honey butter whipped for the warm popovers. Awake, in the middle of the night, restless and musing, I came up with a line for my new poem and turned on the light and got it down. Fussed with it all morning. I did not even attempt Farm Pond. A quick, indoor swim was just right.