#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Lord, it is time.
The summer was very big.
Lay thy shadow on the sundials, and on the meadows let the winds go loose.
Command the last fruits that they shall be full; give them another two more southerly days,
press them on to fulfillment and drive the last sweetness into the heavenly wine.
- Rainer Maria Rilke

My single, final? eggplant elongates. The tomatoes have gone. The butternut vines are blossomed, many blossoms, but I don’t see any squash forming yet. The morning was dark under heavy clouds and growing darker with each step. No weeding today, just a somewhat short walk. Suzi petered out so I turned back and then took a swim instead. Soon enough the heavy rain came splattering all over the new plantings. The rain will come and come and this stormy remnant of Ida will cause all the rivers to rise, including the Charles. I work on a new poem, part of a series I’m calling “woods cycle.” My time to write is broken up in the day, but by tonight I get a first draft, good enough to send. Beside me in bed, I have thrown up the windows to the loud pouring of the rain, a soothing sound. Welcome, September. I love what Rilke says, I feel like this: the summer was very big. And it’s not over, but Labor Day Weekend approaches, and all the signals of autumn have begun. I harvest gratitude.