#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

The Rock Garden

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white. . .

Excerpt from, “There Will Come Soft Rains,” by Sara Teasdale

Soft and steady, all night, the rain fell outside my open window, and I kept waking into its refreshing and comforting steadiness. All of the plants, all the new plantings, the plum and the lilac, the juniper and hydrangea, all being drenched and rinsed in their new homes in this earth. It was a restless sleep of knowing I needed to wake extra early to have time for a brief walk before going to Falmouth High School—online, of course, not by car. And I did wake, earlier than necessary, and I did go out into the lovely wetness. And I did linger at the maple wings with raindrops, knowing they are going going, will soon be gone. And I stopped at the brook and looked at the trees and the ripples. By 7:26 am I was teaching my first of three morning classes to a screen full of high schoolers for Student Day of Poetry, sponsored. by Mass. Poetry. (I am among a group of Mass. poets leading workshops in schools this week, something I’ve done in previous years very happily; none last year, of course. 7:26 a.m.! I was leading my Your Pictures As Poetry: Writing From Your Photo Stream workshop. It was a little awkward to have students share, because many are in the classroom, masked, and the audio was a challenge. But they engaged and I think it went very well. After my first workshop I had a quick break and ran into Frank in the kitchen, and laughed, and told him how much it reminded me of the work we were both doing when we met and become best friends and fell in love. We used to teach substance abuse prevention in private schools around the US; we’d go to a different school every week and teach usually four classes a day and meet in between classes for quick hellos, coffee, walks. . . and then find fun things to do once school was out. He laughed and smiled. Then I ran back for my next class! All three went wonderfully, th students wrote from photos, and I do the same tomorrow. The rain stopped in the afternoon, the sun came out. I worked on a poem from the letters for tonight. It was one I started a week ago. And I worked on the project a bit more; I am so nearing the end of the letters, and determined to stay, steady as rain, focused and productive.

Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.