#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

. . . Her ledge is an underbite over the gray skull of sky,

Darkly serrated with junipers, pinon pine

Herds of which mill about her slopes and ledges.

Seen from her side, she is a canine tooth.

Yesterday it rained.

Today she huddles, wrapped in a tattered serape made from the white rags of cloud.

Now the sun lifts fog in tendrils:

It looks as though a thousand horses born inside her took off running

and left behind them trails of smoke. . .

~ Excerpt from “Cerro Pedernal,” by Amber Burke

We are both awake early in Abiquiu. Before sun. We make coffee in our room. I work on a poem. Then, when it’s light, it’s breakfast. Out into the cold, the short walk to the cafeteria and the mountains around us and the snow. Last time I was here the cottonwoods were gold in the fall. Frank has phone calls. I go off on a walk of my own. There is a labyrinth, I discover. I set my intention and go to the center. Easily, I find my way there. It is the leaving, after my ritual, that takes me such a long time. I miss a turn? I go around the entire labyrinth more than once on my way out, laughing, wondering if I will find my way to the exit without cheating my way out. And I do. I walk a snowy path, the Kitchen Trail. There is a brook running with red mud and I walk along that for a bit. I am happy in my picture taking. I am awestruck by the beauty that surrounds me. I am cold, too. There are clouds. But, around lunchtime, the sun comes out. Frank is free. We drive to Bodhi’s General Store for sandwiches and drive to the base camp of the hike he took on his silent retreat here so many years ago along the Chama River which is running and full, instead of a trickle. The road is slick with mud, we are talking, and deeply. We are having a conversation we can only have in this gorgeous wilderness. We meet two bulls in our path and sneak around them. We are late, late for our horseback riding tour of Georgia O’Keeffe’s scenery and Ghost Ranch home. Then, on our horses, we are with the tour and it’s snowing. The last time I was here the sky was so clear, the sun was out, the colors were bright. Everything is muted. I wanted to show Frank what I’d seen that fall. He is happy, though, with the sweetness of the snow. We decide, after this, to go back to Santa Fe for dinner and to stay. Find a hotel, finally warm up. It’s snowing here too. This morning I received an e-mail out of the blue. A director who is directing my (licensed) one-act play, The Adventures of Rocky & Skye, (published by Youth Plays) and it’s always so nice to get a message like this:

Just a quick note to say THANK YOU! I am directing a production of your play, the Adventures of Rocky & Skye here in Luxembourg (in English) with our Youth Theatre group of New World Theatre Club.

Thank you so much for your play. It is a great script for the kids, many are non-native speakers (kids here tend to speak at least 3 -4 languages!) and it is so accessible to them.

Thanks so much! Keep writing! You are touching kids everywhere!