#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Strea

Everyone awake early and pancakes on order. Then I work on my poem for bit. New one. Out to the wetlands. The beaver is leaving shore. It’s gray under clouds. He swims away in ripples. I startle the mallards. I wade through the brook. Soon I take a fine swim. Then return to my poem. Writing most of the day. Until I am done with a draft. I must nap. In the late afternoon Frank and I take Wave for a tennis lesson. We must race, he and I, around and around the track, making sure he wins. He’s hitting the ball better. But we should have fed him before we came. He has used up all his energy and gets into a bit of a hungry meltdown. Home to his mother and a dinner she makes. Dinner as emergency. Months ago my Ukrainian friend gave me a birthday gift. Tickets to a concert in Somerville tonight, a fascinating and amazing Ukrainian folk quartet. Frank came with me. It was spectacular and very moving. Here’s a clip from Youtube of them in an NPR Tiny Desk Concert: