#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Dusk. Autumn River

Frank left early. I woke to say goodbye. Wet in the grass, fresh and bright outdoors and pleasant weather forecast. I took a run with Charleston, and didn’t stop for any pictures, but looked at everything wilting or vibrating with color––the leaves––and appreciated it as I jogged past. I was eager to get to my desk with a busy week ahead. I thought I would find a poem already written, a draft, that I could bring to workshop tonight, and save writing time. Instead, I took out the poem I had in mind and found myself revising it for quite some time; and it was worth it. Tonight, the feedback was very appreciative. I am so enjoying the cohort of writers I’m working with in my monologue workshop, and I spent some time reading drafts there. Managed a quick swim, indoors, in the afternoon, to counteract all the swimming;. I thought over, all day, my time yesterday with my uncle, how special it was, like old times, when I lived with them in Newton and would find him always up late, drinking strong, black coffee, reading papers and tests of his students, and he was always cheerfully ready for a fun or deep conversation and always showed interest in what I was working on in graduate school, of course. And I would join him in a strong cup of coffee and laugh and feel so stimulated by our chats. Yesterday was like that, comfortable and familiar and stimulating. I walked after dinner across the field to the river. Sun going down behind the pines and the maples reflected on the river, a lovely, comforting and comfortable and deep red, warm and intimate, and energy giving, and returned to my desk at dusk.