#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Blue Figure in Morning Brook

"It was cold and windy, scarcely the day
to take a walk on that long beach
Everything was withdrawn as far as possible,
indrawn: the tide far out, the ocean shrunken,
seabirds in ones or twos.
The rackety, icy, offshore wind
numbed our faces on one side;
disrupted the formation
of a lone flight of Canada geese;
and blew back the low, inaudible rollers
in upright, steely mist."
- Elizabeth Bishop, The End of March

March is mean. Going out in bitter cold. I swam, ran out of energy, but still took the dogs out. Wind and thin ice on the river. A brittle walk in woods. A wandering kind of day at my desk. Tonight, my daughter needed the final sections of her Drama Therapy thesis proofed. We worked together on Facetime. I teared up at the end. Proud. Told her so. Excellent writing, excellent work about her project with playback theatre. And the delicious arc of it all. Founding the playback troupe with her and her pals when they were in elementary school: The Red Suitcase Players. And now, she’s a member of True Story Theater and writing a thesis on playback and about to become a Drama Therapist! Just achingly sweet. The creative work she has done and will do––

Then, off to a poetry share with my friends Marlon and Randy; we haven’t been together since before Christmas, and it was a dynamic time of sharing, critiquing and supporting each other’s poems. My dear poetry buds––their stellar work. And, I had time to whip off a revision of my poem shared last night after proofing my daughter’s thesis and their comments hit the mark, and it feels done. The lambing poem I wrote from the experience at Drumlin Farm. I really feel that I could write all night but I better get some sleep. Charles River Writers in the a.m. after my swim.