#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

IN APRIL

Rainer Maria Rilke [Translated by from German by Jesse Lamont]

Again the woods are odorous, the lark
Lifts on upsoaring wings the heaven gray 
That hung above the tree-tops, veiled and dark, 
Where branches bare disclosed the empty day.

After long rainy afternoons an hour 
Comes with its shafts of golden light and flings 
Them at the windows in a radiant shower, 
And rain drops beat the panes like timorous wings.

Then all is still. The stones are crooned to sleep 
By the soft sound of rain that slowly dies; 
And cradled in the branches, hidden deep 
In each bright bud, a slumbering silence lies.

[This poem is in the public domain. Poets.org]

April rain. The unsettling hum of an intensely granular dream. A walk in the morning wetlands. Brief. The beaver, still out, swimming into his shallows under the gray sky. Where have the mallards gone? The heron? They will return. I have my swim. My head is buzzing, distracting thoughts. I’m restless. My brain wants me to abort my swim. My body sticks to discipline. I rush to shower, dress for poetry workshop. Oh, my poem needs work. Not as strong a draft as I thought. But late in the afternoon I revise, make it stronger. Bring it to workshop tonight, where I see how to make it stronger still. Wave Wave Wave is home. Tomorrow is our Kingsbury swim. Who will be the lifeguard? Evie? Maeve? Sweet Evie who remembers his name. Oh! White Lotus! The finale last night, watched with Frank, on the edge of our seats. I loved this season so much! Mike White! When is season four? I am rewatching Season 1, and 2, just for fun. Three has been the strongest. They are all strong! Such good television!