#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

~ Robert Frost

There was rain and the leaves thrown down. There was sun and the rain still raining. I walked in the field as the mist was rising. There was rain and the sun still shining. It was a mixed up gorgeous morning for being outdoors. Foliage along the river peaking. Brook filling, river rising, November coming, another birthday coming. Unconscionable acts in Ukraine. Our support group meets. Sanctuary. Support. A story about a lost passport and the offer of chocolate at stressful moment. Our bond deepens. Our translator arrives in the Boston area Friday. There is stress in Ukraine, so many double binds to feel squeezed in. We have some laughter. I suggest we offer creative titles for the shares everyone gives, and this is a delightful choice. The painters paint the upstairs, it’s crowded, noisy, and there is progress. I make everyone’s favorite dinner cheerfully and I am rewarded with many compliments. I tweak yesterday’s poem with some of the feedback from last night. I open the windows for a cross breeze and crickets. There’s a gold rush in the river, and the river runs through me.