#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
O thou whose face hath felt the Winter’s wind,
Whose eye has seen the snow-clouds hung in mist,
And the black elm tops ‘mong the freezing stars!
To thee the spring will be a harvest time. . .~ John Keats, Excerpt from “The Winter’s Wind”
Howling wind outside the window and I wake to barking, barking, barking. How did Charlie get out in the yard to run after animals in the woods at this hour? 3 a.m. I am warm and sleepy, uninterested in solving this. He has stopped barking. I would like to drift cozily back to sleep. But. . . he couldn’t have let himself outside, could he? I stumble out of bed and down the stairs into a gust of icy air–the wind has blown open a door. So, he did let himself out. And back in, as well, there’s Charlie sleeping on his couch. Now I am up for good. And, in a few hours, I go out into the frigid yard, meadow, trees, and an orange ball of sun is breaking through. The Charles and all the flooded parts of the trail are covering in ice. Decorative ice, interesting ice. I skid around looking at the lovely patterns the cold has made. But I’m so cold, I cannot walk myself into warmth this morning, and we only go so far and then return. I take a long swim instead. Today, the holiday and all its necessities is very clearly, urgently, even, in view. I take stock. Here’s what I have to do, and I must make some progress, and I do. A party is planned. Food is ordered. Christmas day food also planned and ordered. In the afternoon, I am ready to gather my greens, and the dogs are very delighted for this second romp. A storm weeks ago broke a magnificent pine into the meadow and the evergreen branches are covered in tiny cones. I get my wagon, pull it across the snow, and harvest my greens. Frank joins me. And then, my holly with the berries. I bring the fragrances indoors. This is my favorite part, covering the house with the greens. Frank puts the lights on the tree. Now, Christmas is coming indoors to our house. On my walk, I felt the press of all the to do’s of this day; and I feel the sweet satisfaction of getting these chores and fun things done. I am making things manageable. I had printed recipes for all the things I first imagined I would cook for the party. Then, I faced facts. Frank called in the order. I have a large family to feed for Sunday’s gathering. And tonight, by the lights of the tree, I open the Montreal poem and revise so I can share it with my poetry pals. And we meet on Zoom and share our writing with each other, from Massachusetts to Mississippi to Texas. And, I feel that this poem of mine will have a long journey of crafting; but they help me and make excellent comments. There’s no wind tonight. The trees are quiet, the doors secure. This morning, after waking at 3:00, I read my recent interview with Mass. Poetry, posted on their website, about my poetry collection, “girl in tree bark,” and I was pretty satisfied with how it came out. If you want to, you can read it here. Goodnight.
Light ahead