#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Ted Kooser, from, “Winter Morning Walks.”

Solstice soon, a few days away. Another morning of Wave waking up too early, waking his mother, and eventually me, for eggs. It’s dark and the light happens outside by the time he gets his breakfast. Oh! It’s light already, he notices. He is becoming acquainted with the early morning hours. He woke me from a dream in which I was having brain surgery performed by Jesse Eisenberg. I am in the mood to be writing poetry, but the necessities of Christmas preparations call. Work is mostly on hold. The house needs decorating, cookies need baking, the yard needs some cleanup. I hang the wreath and gather the greens and fill the planters with lovely pine fragrance. Tonight, I feel the wear and tear. Franci is wonderful. We went to get trees, one for her, one for me. Since Frank is away she took mine off the car and set it up inside the stand and it’s not even crooked. Standing straight and ready for decorations. I am appreciating the past few days opening the door to let the dogs in or out at dusk––the cheerful wintry call of the barred owl in the nearby trees. I am posting one of Ted Kooser’s wonderful winter walking poems because, as I said and say again: I also wish for writing time. So I must be like the wind, held in the heart of the tree, waiting my turn.