#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
. . . Today the bird stays with me, as if I am moving through
the heron’s dream to share his sky or water—places
he will rise into on slow flapping wings or where
his long bill darts to catch unwary frogs. I’ve seen
his slate blue feathers lift him as dangling legs
fold back, I’ve seen him fly through the dying sun
and out again, entering night, entering my own sleep. . .
~ Excerpt from “Great Blue Heron,” T. Alan Broughton
Fresh and bright and wet from last night’s rain, my friend and I have a very quick text exchange: walk or kayak? We choose the river. Its stillness, on the surface. And all around us, the morning bustle and activity of herons and more herons, red wing blackbirds, muskrats, crossing the river with bunches of green grass in their jaws for nesting, I supposed. Painted turtles swifting off of rocks as we approach. An osprey overhead. Two geese and a gosling. The maples are past their peak, finally, the red wings going pale pink and dropping fast. We talk mothering and nesting and leaving nests and changing course and living sixties to the fullest. It grows almost hot. We paddle back in a slight current, filled to the brim with sunny energy for the day. I work on a poem from the letters. And another! And I am almost, almost done, i discover: three letters to go. I meet with a writer friend from Egypt and talk writing. Tonight, Monday workshop, and I’m pleased enough with my poem and excited to think how this workshop has sustained my project through this entire first phase, giving me hope and ideas and encouragement and validation and craft advice. I know I will power through these last letters this week so that I will finish this phase and discover the next.
Morning on the Charles River
