#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
My eyes are open in bed. Someone very short is at my door, urging me to “come.” Irresistible request. Outdoors, the destination. Lovely summer morning. We are looking for drama in the sky. Clouds, all shapes. We gaze and gaze. Day begins. After breakfast, I take Charlie for a long ramble. I pass the meadow in Rocky Narrows that has a host of milkweed plants. I see one black butterfly out of the corner of my eye. No monarchs––the plants that gave me a poem two summers ago (July 6th––To the Lake) are black with rot from drought. Sigh. But, passing the wetlands where the swamp is full of fresh cattails, where there is water from the river, the arrowhead bloom next to silver-blue bright dogberries. While in the woods on my walk I have a session with a client from New York. She walks during our session as well. We have mutually discovered that walking together in this way is a wonderful way to hold our session: outdoors, with our lungs working. Everything sensory seems to enhance my ability to be a focused listener. I reach home when our call is done. I take the Special One for a swim in the late afternoon. The pond is shallow, unfresh. In need of rain. Tonight I lead the Open Mic for the Journal of Expressive Writing. Our feature is a writer from Egypt, Riham Adly. Very moving. Flash fiction, as an Arab woman, is her superpower, she says, finding self-expression in English. Now, I am tired; and grateful for this day, start to finish.
