#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
Charles River Morning
December begins. Thirty-one years ago I lived in Clearwater, Florida with my husband and spent the whole night, hours after hour, laboring to bring my first born into the world. In New England, this morning, on the other side of the sun bright river where the black branches rippled their reflections of the surface, I walked through the wetlands over a footpath and caught site of an eggless nest in the midst of bittersweet vine twining its bright berries all through the bracken.
“. . . But in my hand it was
intricate pleasure, even the thorny reeds
softened in the weave. And the fading
leaf mold, hardly
itself anymore, merely a trick
of light, if light
can be tricked. Deep in a life
is another life. . . .”