. . . Slowly I would get to pen and paper,

Make my poems for others unseen and unborn.

In the day I would be reminded of those men and women,

Brave, setting up signals across vast distances,

Considering a nameless way of living, of almost unimagined values.

As the lights darkened, as the lights of night brightened,

We would try to imagine them, try to find each other,

To construct peace, to make love, to reconcile

Waking with sleeping, ourselves with each other,

Ourselves with ourselves. We would try by any means

To reach the limits of ourselves, to reach beyond ourselves,

To let go the means, to wake. . .

~ Excerpt from Muriel Rukeyser, Poem (I lived in the first century of world wars)

My day of three groups. I am having, all week, so many lately, wonderfully imaginative dreams that run like movies, with such amazing specificity. I love sleeping! I have a short walk, admiring the first coloring of leaves dropped off stems to the paths through the woods. Intensity of color. I have my Charles River Craft, wonderful, I have my Israeli group, meaningful, I have a nap. A lovely nap. A casual dinner, and my Grandmother writing group, deep, excellent, superb. All the while, the humidity of the nearly autumn air coming in through the open windows. Brittany barking and barking for attention and food and a walk and a ride in the car. Charlie, grabbing a piece of blueberry scone from Wave as Wave is on his way to school. Charlie! Crisis causer! I find a solution with a quickly thawed piece of a poppy seed muffin. Poppy seeds solve tiny problems. Doors wide open to crickets. Rain may come. The air is so inviting and refreshing.