#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Graffiti, Trestle Bridge

. . . Now you are a very decent flower,

A reticent flower,

A curiously clear-cut, candid flower,

Standing beside clean doorways,

Friendly to a house-cat and a pair of spectacles,

Making poetry out of a bit of moonlight

And a hundred or two sharp blossoms. . .

~ Excerpt from “Lilacs,” by Amy Lowell

A heron startles from the river’s edge, the spot where I head every morning. She flies off over my head. The sky is a plain easy gray. It’s warm and damp. Rain? No, it doesn’t. Stays clear, warms up, but the sun does not shine. It’s a yard work day. The season begins. I have planned to be out all morning. Without Frank, who is playing tennis, and then going to the clinic to see if he has pneumonia. In the middle of the night, both awake, he is coughing, and I say, do you think you have pneumonia? Possibly, he says. Still, he won’t cancel his match. And, he knows best, as he won. And he, as it turns out, does not have pneumonia, but he has bronchitis. And I urge him to rest in the afternoon while I rake and plant pots and get out the lawn furniture and buy a few herbs. It’s a thrill to be past winter. Yesterday put cross country skis and all the winter boots of the family away in the basement. There are buds on all the lilac bushes. Easter seems late this year. I have filled the plastic eggs for the hunt tomorrow in our yard. I have boiled two dozen eggs for the coloring that has yet to happen. It’s a secular Easter in this family. Has not always been so, but feels right now. There is new life everywhere in sight, and tonight, a new, full pink moon over all.

Sky Goose, River Flight