#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

All night rain, this gift, rushes beyond our open doors, a breeze blowing in balmy autumn air, blasting our shingles, pelting our screens, oppressive and gorgeous, shape shifting me to fall asleep or stay awake, sniffling with a cold and dread for how will I go out when it grows light, drearily, to be soaked while feeling sick, so I wait and take poor Charlie to the vet for medicine before the woods, and we follow the Charles Link Trail, the other bank of our Charles, it’s pouring and the dogs agree, who cares? for soon enough it stops, but all night rain soaked and blackened the limbs and branches, water washed and shined yellow leaves, reddening the reds, greening the moss, and we keep going, we can’t turn our back on pink berried vines more delicate with each breath of our steps, shouldering the river’s branches, glorified, gold leaf shining into the rippling, autumn extravagant and awesome, we might have missed this morning so we keep moving, into now, a meadow frames us in blasts of shimmering leaves so I have to give my walk a sound track, and his music sends me running, spinning, twirling, raising my arms and waving like a five year old across the green going brown field for joy toward the old dead hospital, past painted red windows like bright shuttered eyes, I have to stand still breathing under leaves and limbs, bathing in ghostly gold light, shivering under the clocktower, veiled in bold yellow, no longer counting, swooning into the morning acres of November.