#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Frozen weed by the morning river

Excerpt

Not a lot of sleep, awake very early, listening to the Plath biography and also, putting that off, letting my eyes close and my mind wander into revising the poem I workshopped for the first time yesterday. I get an idea of a way to make a tweak, open it up a bit. I store it, the idea, and hope I will retain it. Meanwhile, my daughter comes into the room, which I’ve noticed is cooler than usual; she says, I don’t think we have any heat. And, as soon as she says this, of course, I feel colder! Frank says, we must be out of oil. And, yes, it turns out they couldn’t make the delivery because of the snow a couple of days ago. It’s not light yet, and it’s growing colder, so I make a good roaring fire and Frank calls the oil company. I remember a dream I had before waking: I went to a McDonalds, and was trying to buy a bag of vegetables! I realize now that masking has entered my psychic dream territory, I kept realizing I wasn’t wearing a mask, and I needed to be, but I’d forgotten it and no one around me was wearing one, and in the end, the vegetables they sold me were rotten. The oil tank was filled, and I had my lovely ski. Brilliant sun sparkling the river, the bushes twinkling. I had a busy day: a day of leading two webinars, morning and evening, both quite satisfying. And, in between, managed to revise the new poem; I am not sure how I feel about it. But I sent it off. Sleep, I welcome you tonight, and dreams, may you come bearing a bag of fresh vegetables.