#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

. . . Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the garden nights. . .

~ Carl Sandburg

Rain, cold, dull, tired for Equinox. Awake without energy, early. Too tired. Whole body tired. Letting it be Sunday. Charlie for a walk. We go around the circle of the property three times and then I go back to bed. To a deep sleep, lost in the day. Wake up to heavy rain. Here it is, the season changing. Summer gone, truly gone in today’s weather. The fire on. In the afternoon, some energy comes, for working on a poem. I have the time to get deep into a revision. This is satisfying. All the way to dinner, I am in it, the changing. Frank has taken charge of Sunday dinner. I set the table. Everyone here tonight, and my grandson back home with us. We linger at the table. It’s dark out early and the rain won’t stop. Outside, a blah and a blur. Inside, warmth and laughter and everyone fed.