#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

My friend’s dock, Farm Pond, Evening view

A week of good nights of sleep. I fall asleep listening to the Cbarlotte Bronte biography, then backtrack to all the pages I slept through. It’s overcast and muggy. I do not need to water. It is late August. The closure of summer means also the closure of my friend’s time here on Farm Pond. Tonight, I take this photo from her yard as we wind down. I realize how many times I have stood here, evening, morning, mid-day, and looked down at the lake from this view. And, how lucky I have been. I will still swim in the pond after she’s gone. I won’t swim here with her. It's time to change, to let go, to trust this new beginning. Our Governor, Baker, warns us in the newspaper today: Sunday may be a hurricane. I worked on my new poem, revising. Not sure if I have made it better. Last night I dreamed we moved to Maine. I didn’t want to tell anyone yet that we had moved, because I wasn’t sure the move would stick. I opened the door, went into the yard, it was night and dark, and I looked up and saw the white moon shining through a cloud. The moon wanted to see me in my new home.