#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

But on that night while I waited, the clouds casketed the stars, stars with no chambers or hollows, filling themselves with their own heat how a hive quivers to fill each crevice with itself, how I have never been able.

Excerpt from “Breaking Across Us Now," by Katie Ford

Day begun as yesterday, a walk with the wonderful pack of Special One on my back, looking for the duck. No mallards in the wetlands that my eyes can see today, but pleasure in shh-shhing, being extra quiet so as not to startle. Again, he falls into a sweet morning nap. It will be wet, but isn’t yet. Birds and woodpeckers in a pleasant racket. Then, my swim, my half hour of laps. Then home to my desk. I must get a couple of poems off for workshop with Vanessa Gabb this afternoon, our small group. And the workshop is really rich; helpful for me on my poems, and the poems others brought were impressive. Low energy in the late afternoon after that. With a very very messy kitchen to clean up and bags of groceries yet to unpack and a load of laundry needing to be dried, and dinner made, and I’m tired even writing this. What a blessing, though, to live in a multi-generational household for this time being. Even when I’m tired, it feels right and worthwhile. Even when I am at my tiredest, I can be coaxed into favorite activities by the tiny hand that pulls me along, up the stairs, for boisterous round of rolly polly mountain. And, at the end of the day, the dishes done, the groceries put away, the laundry dry and partially folded, I have been fed by making time for art and for making time for being, in spirit, much much much younger than I am.