#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

. . . Dogs can smell

fear and also love with perfect accuracy.

There is no use pretending with them.

Nor do they pretend. If a dog is happy

or sad or nervous or bored or ashamed

or sunk in contemplation, everybody knows it.

They make no secret of themselves. . .

~Excerpt from “If Feeling Isn’t In It,” John Brehm

Charlie woke me up for an early New Year’s morning walk. Thank you, Charlie, you always know what’s best for me. We walked in the blue chill of the iced over wetlands. Unusually, I had stayed up late, past midnight, to ring the New Year in, reading and writing and texting friends and feeling the good cheer, the relief, of everyone. Frank slept peacefully beside me. Today was just a peaceful day. I meditated, sitting by the fire in the living room, via Facetime with my son, who played his new flute before we slipped into silence. My breath was centered and deep, but my thoughts kept focusing on the revision of the poem I brought to workshop Thursday. Before I walked, I decided I was not going to work on the poem. I was going to just let it go away. Then, when I walked, it kept talking to me. So, I took a few notes. Just as the meditation timer chimed the end I got another line, and jotted it down. So, I gave up on the poem, but the poem didn’t give up on me. I miss being face-to-face with my son; but we had such a nice, long conversation and connection around the meditation that I was reminded, once again, to feel close to those who are distant, I simply need to have relaxing time to listen and talk. Flakes of snow are falling, big fat ones, in straight formation down, down, outside my window. A slow, steady pace. A very unhurried flake-fest dusting the wetlands ice.