Poet, Playwright, Workshop Facilitator
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Welcome to my photo journal blog! Here are my first drafts of poetry & prose inspired by my nature photos fresh and #NewThisDay

#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Enchanted Homecoming

Enchanted Homecoming

Into the cool air across moist earthen path and pine needles toward the river, mist rising. A homecoming for me, a weekend away at the sea, now back to riverbank and woods I walk my usual walk along the river and before leaving our property now, where the path heads off into the woods beyond I say good morning to the new residents, their little house fashioned from an abandoned play house we gave our youngest daughter when she turned three and didn't know how she would become a college student taking a semester off to make a home for lives she wants to raise in the playhouse that was an imagined home.

These new lives, these pigs, these lady sisters of sorts, snort at the dogs who whine with misery they cannot touch them! but they must enlarge their territory to include new beings - as we all must - and in this morning mist there are sisters, my daughters, both for their own reasons home this fall, young adult women, working outdoors, tending the growing things of the world, and the oldest is out in the early morning to watch the younger feed her pigs their first breakfast in the pen she made for them and what astonished me, the mother of daughters, is how they have lost and misplaced and troubled each other over the years of growing from the home we made and how they return to make to remake to rediscover and invest - what you are doing here on this earth interests me and matters to me and I want to be your friend, sister, after all, every day I want to make something deeper and better between us in this play pen, this pig pen, this home of this new day, let's make a surprise

like, how #mydailywalk will circle round to a visit with pigs, who would have known, my father raised three in the year we lived as a family in Maine on his farm - three pigs and five children who raised hell in the barn of my parents' lives which made us laugh and tell pig stories for so many after years and my poor mother falling into the pen we are resurrecting you mother, from the pen, from the fall, we want to walk in your shoes and have you love what we make from the stories you left us

Play Pen

Play Pen

Sisters in the adobe door of a hacienda one special time in Taos, NM, land of enchantment