#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

I imagine this midnight moment’s forest:

Something else is alive

Beside the clock’s loneliness

And this bland page where my fingers move. . .

~Excerpt from “The Thought Fox,” Ted Hughes

A red sunrise bleeds the morning sky. I spend some time at my computer finishing prep for the Charles River Writers before going out. I am refreshed from a good night’s sleep and eager to meet with the writers. In this season of Covid, meeting online, instead of in person. The ice surprises me––the top layer has refrozen, is glass clear and holds fast when I step on it in the wetlands. There is quite a freeze/thaw circus going on out there. I take a lot of pictures, and two that I love. I find “The Sleepers,” (above) in the morning brook. All shades of blue so striking and energy-giving. One of the sleepers has a human form; the other is a bubble form. Human, perhaps, but bubbles. As I walk and take pictures I refine my thoughts about the webinar and prompt, and I am warmed up with excitement about what will unfold. We don’t stay out that long; I plan to run, rather than swim, for a bit in the afternoon. The workshop produces some truly remarkable, spontaneous writing, and I’m really pleased about the warm-ups and prompts that I shared. Whew! We run over. Our cups runneth over. Splendid. Then, kept busy with emails and a phone call with a friend and then it’s time for my run at the track. I am not fast and energetic. But I manage three miles. It’s after school and the high school students, the track team, I guess, are sharing the track. My goodness, I feel slow! Who cares? I got my run in. I am pleased to run into the supermarket to drop a meal for a dear friend; I wish I had the wherewithal to make something homemade today. But, with Frank away and my daughter in her new job, I have delightful extra duties with the Special One. Oh! The feather I found on my walk! Gorgeous. A woodpecker? Just as I came back onto our property, there it was. Such a lovely find, a lovely moment to stop and consider the fine bird who lost it in flight.