#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
Milkweed by the Charles
“. . . Whatever it was I lost, whatever I wept for
Was a wild, gentle thing, the small dark eyes
Loving me in secret.
It is here. At a touch of my hand,
The air fills with delicate creatures
From the other world.”
It’s not my daily practice – perhaps it should be –but, this morning, after walking didn’t cure my irritable mood, I lit a candle before I sat down to work, a simple act, a way of hope, as if lighting up some inner resource of spiritual aid against a mood of doom and gloom.
In my inbox there’s an e-mail answering mine of yesterday - the swastika I found painted on public property over the weekend will be reported to the police and removed.
King Philip’s Overlook, Rocky Narrows