A restorative walk was all I wanted. Canceled going to poetry workshop; I didn’t have a poem and I didn’t have the energy to rush this morning. I didn’t want to swim. I just needed some silent time in the woods. That’s where I went. What sky today; expanse, deep blue. I startled the heron; the rush of wings over the Charles. I went to the trestle bridge and watched the river and its current. I went into the meadow. Brambles caught at my shoulder. A deer ran across the wide meadow in front of me and Charlie. And while I was walking, calmly, silently, a poem started in me. I walked and it kept coming. I spoke the draft into my voice memos, I didn’t want to lose it since it had found me. And I felt the rightness of needing to miss my workshop in order to write the poem. I went home and made a first draft. In the afternoon, the special one needed me outdoors. The whole afternoon of spring warmth and sunshine. We spent time at the river and in the wetlands. We saw the heron over our heads. We heard the woodpecker across the river. We sat with Mr. and Mrs. Mallard at the brook. We saw a bluebird in the wetlands! We dangled our bare feet in the stream. We watched the goldfinch in the branches over the brook. We saw the woodpecker climbing the tree. We raked. We cleaned the leaves out of the frog pond. We found the big frog and watched the frog for a long time in his frog pond habitat that we had disturbed for spring cleaning. And I felt this was a wonderful day; a poem came and a grandson came and I had time and presence for both. And, for my daughter, my youngest, her actual birthday. Dinner out with her and her boyfriend, just the four of us. Riding home at the time of day when she was born, and storytelling from that special day. And, a gift for me, from my friend, the poet and artist and teacher, Tom Daley, who sketched me at the Lily Poetry Review Readings from Saturday. Quite an honor and treasure.