#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Loostrife in the Cattails

Excerpt from “Swimming Chenango Lake,” Charles Tomlinson

Because the sun was shining I felt fresh, and, at the river, the water streaming behind the grapevines and maple leaves was clean and odorless, and the mosquitos were troublesome but not intolerable. How wonderful, the scent of summer and not the putrid smell of whatever happened to the river, still a mystery. But Suzi swam in the brook, she sensed it too: repair. And I walked a good walk feeling creative minded. I had a poem starting in my head and recorded some notes. And then, another. So, when I got inside, I sat right down to work, and took some notes on the second poem first, and then wrote the poem from my first idea and sent off the draft for tonight’s workshop. A swim in the sunny afternoon, a long and invigorating one. My youngest is inspiring me into longer swims; I felt like I was in my twenties, the power and energy I harnessed into a rhythmic stroke, to the pump house from around the island, then across the pond to the swimming area of the beach and back to the dock, feeling strong and grateful. Home to a bit of weeding and meeting with the hummingbird on the bee balm. Tonight, I appreciated the thoughtful review of my poem, and the comments, and it was a strong draft. I am grateful to the river that helped me write it fresh.

Morning Brook