A dry sky, a waning moon, tonight. This morning, walked long to the meadow on Hospital Road, a long wander under a blue and white sky. Lots of wildflowers aging out. A busy day as seasons shift: my daughter who lives here heading to an office job tomorrow. Flux. My dear friend stops by for a visit; we walk the dogs around the yard. My garden is giving up all its tomatoes. The watermelon and pumpkins in arrested development. I am impatient for mature eggplant. The butternut vines are creeping and blooming. Three poems are accepted by a journal I admire for winter publication. I’m so glad they have found a home together here. The editor suggests one line change in one of the poems: remove the last line. And yes, I see, she is exactly right. Tonight I drive to Braintree to have a poetry gathering with friends. We sit outdoors in the muggy heat with a little bit of breeze and a lot of conversation and have a delicious dinner, served generously by our host, and then we read and discuss our poems. A fine, fine evening and a drive home after dark. After dark! How very little I have been going out alone is so long! Who am I? Where am I going? How did I get here? I have borrowed Frank’s car, the top is down, I let the wind blow on me all the way, somehow, I find my way home under this waning August moon.

A shout out: Happy birthday, dear Helene!