#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Don’t just stand there with your hair turning gray,

soon enough the seas will sink your little island.

So while there is still the illusion of time,

set out for another shore.

No sense packing a bag.

You won’t be able to lift it into your boat.

Give away all your collections.

Take only new seeds and an old stick.

Send out some prayers on the wind before you sail.

Don’t be afraid.

Someone knows you’re coming.

An extra fish has been salted.

— Mona (Sono) Santacroce (1928–1995)

I am awake well before Frank and I don’t feel like I’ve slept much, and that’s okay. I am glad to have a little time with Frank before he leaves. The dogs are happy I am home. The river is happy I am home. The maple wings are happy I am home. I walk before I wake up Wave, and Wave is happy I am home. The eggs are happy I am home. Today it is scrambled for both of us––and then he is gone and I take my swim. I have poetry workshop and my new poem and then I am on the road to see my aunt and take her to see my uncle. I tell him what a good man he is and she agrees with me. He is very quiet. I tell him how lucky he was to have a daughter like Debbie and he nods. She is salting a fish for him. I tell him we are all going to take care of Aunt Dottie. I take her home so she can rest. Wave is happy to see me tonight before bed. We must do yoga which means we must be dinosaurs, and then we are quiet and I give my youngest a shoulder massage and he wants one too.