#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

“. . . And how like a field is the whole sky now
that the maples have shed their leaves, too.
It makes us believers—stationed in groups,
leaning on rakes, looking into space. We rub blisters
over billows of leaf smoke. Or stand alone,
bagging gold for the cold days to come.”

— Excerpt from "Neighbors in October," David Baker

Here I am by the river this morning, “bagging gold,” in the hard warmth of an unseasonable October day. We walk into the light and heat before my Wednesday morning group. I pack my prompts, my colored scarves for a warm-up with the writers, I pack my bathing suit for a swim in the pond after writing. Upstairs, in the studio, we throw wide the windows and let the sun shine on the pond below us, the golden blue pond in October heat and light. We write about weather, the emotional kind, like wind. We’re a circle of heat and hearts beating into words, lines on the pages. We are women at the cauldron, at the well, at the wreath of fire. Listening. Breath rises, fiery, hot, true and beautiful into the morning. Then, after, I descend the stone path above the rippling blue pond, and without hesitation, charge into the chilled lake, the fresh, cold swim of fall, the leaves, red, yellow, scattered on the surface, I swim through them, with the sun on my shoulders, to the island, around the island, full of the golden light of the trees and I find a rhythm and I am warm now, breath, stroke, breath, I am in the pond, this year, from May through October, full of energy, full of gratitude, feeling blessed, harvesting this golden day.