#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Morning Brook

Now I think poetry will save nothing from oblivion, but I keep writing about the ordinary because for me it's the home of the extraordinary, the only home.

~ Philip Levine

It never ceases to delight me, this simple brook under trees that pools at the edge of our property and runs over our wetlands to the river. Today, some little hearts of ice. Charlie sits on the snow, and Suzi too, and they wait so patiently for me to finish my photos. That Charlie. Our wonder dog. He has taken to guarding a little life in our house. If he hears a tiny voice of distress, a sleepless, fitful fuss, he barks. Stands at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for help to follow him up to check on his charge. We continue our ski, appreciating this still fresh powder. The bleak sky warns of the rain that’s coming. And, later, it does come, it pours steadily over the snow I’ve enjoyed so much in the woods. How lucky I’ve been to have it. In addition to prepping for groups this week, I do a bit of board committee work and then work on revising a poem and stop in frustration. Then I mope around a bit, do the dishes, grumbling. In the late afternoon, I have a long call with a friend I haven’t talked to in so many, many months, another writer, another mother. We have so much to catch up on! We have to tell each other our pandemic lives! I didn’t realize how hungry I was for this talk. Tonight, my Monday workshop, as usual, excellent. Wonderful camaraderie––and poems. I have brought a poem from the letters and get great feedback. And, now I’m behind on my goal for this project. Tomorrow, I will see if I am ready to begin my commitment to a letter/poem a day. Tonight I am so tired, my eyes are closing now.