#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

The river bridges and star charts and song harmonies
All in service to a simple idea:

That we can make a house called tomorrow.
What we bring, finally, into the new day, every day,

Is ourselves.  And that’s all we need
To start.  That’s everything we require to keep going. 

Look back only for as long as you must,
Then go forward into the history you will make.

~ Excerpt from “A House Called Tomorrow,” by Alberto Rios

So much news that is hard to hear. Not in the woods, though. In the silence, my ears, over the snow, Sound of skis over powder. It’s arctic cold. One degree when Wave and I set off in the car for his school. After his egg. During his egg. He has carried it out the door with him. He eats if all the way to school with the blanket I have thrown over his lap. The heat is blasting. I had tried warming the car up. I’m low on gas. We play a game, guessing how much the temperature will be when we arrive at school, a half hour away. He says eight degrees. He’s right! All the ride home I think, it’s too cold to go out. But then I tuck myself into Frank’s ski jacket and I’m toasty. I go for a long ski. The birds are not quiet. The birds are hungry and plentiful and the food is scarce. I stop to admire a red-headed woodpecker by the river. A pair of them, in fact, knocking on the trees. I revise a poem, meet with a client. I pick up Wave in the afternoon and we go to Kingsbury for a very warm swim in the kiddie pool. We are very happy playing in the water. Tonight I love working on the prompt for my writing workshop tomorrow. I thought it would be too cold to ski but I did it anyway. And the birds saw me go by. So long Garth Hudson. Thanks for the music.