#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

The snake can separate itself

from its shadow, move on ribbons of light,

taste the air, the morning and the evening,

the darkness at the heart of things. . .

~ Excerpt from “Fear of Snakes,” by Lorna Crozier

It wasn’t until afternoon that I took my walk. Another early morning, awake at 5:00 a.m. and throwing the doors open to the cool fresh post-heat wave comfort. I am eager to be in the garden. I have a new idea for a rock garden inside the fenced garden with the vegetables and I have bought some young perennials, INCLUDING swamp milkweed and other pollinators. First, I water the hydrangeas, of course. I weed a bit, here and there. Then I start collecting some big rocks from various places into my wagon and pulling it, hoping I am not straining my lower back. I water the entire vegetable garden and all the grass seed. I need more rocks. I find creative ways to get them into my wagon without having to lift them. Then, I go to poetry. I have brought a revision of a garden poem, and get great feedback. We meet the snake, my son, daughter and myself while walking to my friend’s dock through the woods. We surprise it at the brook on high alert. It goes back to the.brook after sensing us for a bit. I take a swim around the island in a cool breeze. Later, I finish the planting and arranging of my rocks. and transplant some ferns from the woods. Ta da! Tonight, on Zoom, a poetry launch for two friends, and then a meeting with my poetry pals from Texas and Mississippi. Whew! How am I still awake? The windows wide open to the crickets and cool fresh air. How does a snake separate itself from its shadow? I will dream on that question.