#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

. . . the table, at the midpoint
of sumer,
the tomato,
star of earth,
recurrent
and fertile
star,
displays
its convolutions,
its canals,
its remarkable amplitude
and abundance,
no pit,
no husk,
no leaves or thorns,
the tomato offers
its gift
or fiery color
and cool completeness.

~ Pablo Neruda, excerpt from “Ode to Tomatoes”

Oh, hard to get up this morning, so much activity lately. But the dogs want to go out and we do into the already steamy day. But, what a fine and refreshing breeze blew over my shoulders as I watered the bee balm and butterfly weed and visited the hummingbird. In the vegetable garden. I picked cukes and squash, still the squash! and so many many tomatoes which I plan to give to my dear friend’s daughter. The new milkweed plants have given to pods in the perennial garden I planted near the vegetables. The pumpkin flowers are hearty, the sweet potatoes continue to surprise me, and I have two fine purple eggplant ready imminently. No blossoms yet on the butternut, but they are leafy and spreading. Inside, I draft a brand new poem inspired by the sunflower and the clocktower photo I took last night. I get a good enough draft and then have to break. A swim is absolutely necessary, and the pond refreshes. A cormorant perches on my friend’s raft, drying its wings. I swim to the pumphouse and back and a bit more until I’m spent for today. Before dinner, my friend’s daughter arrives for a pound or two of fresh tomatoes and hugs. After dinner I check in on my poem before I send it. Tweak it Send it. Doubt it. Oh well, a poem is begun, imperfect and full of blind spots. Tomorrow, I will be shown them. I walk in the heavy heat after dinner before dark with a special passenger and the breeze that blew earlier today is long gone.