#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Charles River Morning

. . . and for now it seems as though

you are still summer

still the high familiar

endless summer

yet with a glint

of bronze in the chill mornings

and the late yellow petals

of the mullein fluttering

on the stalks that lean

over their broken

shadows across the cracked ground. . .

~ Excerpt from “The the Light of September,” W.S. MERWIN

Such a busy day yesterday, I forgot to realize that it was the last day of August. I woke, with surprise, into the first day of September. Frank was outdoors in the chilly morning with the Special One. I spent pretty much the entire day outdoors. It warmed into a sunny day for Farm Pond. I had the care of the Special One for the entire day. Sky, trees, empty brook, gardens, beach sand, sandbox. At the pond, a frisky breeze blowing the top of the water. It was lovely and fresh, quiet and unpopulated except for a few children happy to enjoy the first day of September on the beach. In the afternoon, I sat by the black bottomed brook for a long time on the bench while the Special One used his toy tractor to dig in the bottom. I thought about winter, the frozen brook, and all the ice pictures I find. And about the contrast of summer and no water and the black soil being heaved by a boy’s hands on a toy. And how I will think of this quiet, calm, still afternoon, in the warmth, under the leafy trees, and nowhere to be but here with my hands on my lap and this peace in a place that always brings me peace. Today, this boy commands the brook. Better than a sandbox. Leaving his mark as autumn approaches. Contentment, this September day, abounds.