#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Puddle Art

Overstimulated from my showcase, I sleep lightly, wake early. Frank and I both up at 5:00 a.m. I don’t mind, really. We chat in the dark morning with coffee. When it’s just light, I go out with Charlie. Not on skis. The snow is virtually all gone. Light just rising over the snowy trees at the river’s edge. I don’t have my car as I’m letting my youngest take it to work while hers is in shop. So, I take Charlie back home, grab my swim bag, and walk over the trestle bridge and through meadows and across a street and through the woods briefly to the club where I have a nice lap swim. Not long enough. Frank picks me up in the parking lot. I would have gone longer. I have my Charles River Writers, the critique group, and it’s stimulating and rich with great writing to discuss. Tonight, no groups; relax a bit with the family after I make butternut squash pizza. I love being home. And there is just the lightest amount of snow falling. And for hours now, rain, rain, rain. It’s loud and insistent. Air warming up. Ice and snow will be long gone. I work on a couple of poem revisions today and tonight. Find a Longfellow poem about snow that I’m using for my revision of the one of the poems and I am not sure it’s working––yet, but wonder how this mash-up might bring something worthwhile into my poem, even if I cannot yet see it. I studied the iced puddles on the meadow road on the way to the club looking for pictures. Puddles are where the ice was present and pleasing today.