#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Morning Brook

It’s a morning for Suzi’s pace. A leisurely walk, kicking along the fallen leaves. A day for pictures, for lingering to watch the reflections in the brook. A day to appreciate the colors before they pass. The river is receding. I am able to walk on Frank’s stepping stones out to the river; they are no longer submerged. It’s summery weather, sun-bright. I know I will swim later on. The monologue course is winding down, the showcase preparation continues. I meet with three writers, one-on-one, to polish monologues. I make no progress on my poem, I am momentarily stuck. In the mid-afternoon I take a break. It’s actually a bit cooler, I think, but I have planned a swim, won’t be deterred. I just decide, yes, it’s a little cooler than I thought, but I’m going. Golden pine needles have fallen all over the steps descending to the beach; I’m careful not to slip. I just go straight in. The sun is behind a cloud. I am happy to be in! Pond to myself, a rush of cold, and then, it feels right and fine. Soon enough, the sun flashes into my face when I turn for breath. The water is so still and colorful, spillled paint. I make the same swim I’ve made two other times this week, and it’s so satisfying. Then, a hot shower, warming my bones. In the late afternoon I am in the yard, at the butterfly bush with the special one to see if there’s a monarch, and no monarch, but the milkweed seeds are fluffing out of their husks, we grab handfuls and blow the seeds over the field. We make a wish for more and more monarchs in summers to come.

Death Bridge, Charles River