#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Show's over, folks. And didn't October do

A bang-up job? Crisp breezes, full-throated cries

Of migrating geese, low-floating coral moon.

Nothing left but fool's gold in the trees.

Did I love it enough, the full-throttle foliage,

While it lasted? Was I dazzled? , , ,

~ Excerpt from November, Maggie Dietz

New month. Short daylight coming on. House is unusually quiet. I have woken later than usual. I hope to get some work done in the quietness. Frank will have his tennis. I have time by the river. Sun is shining. It’s warm. And the leaves have gone to rust. It’s very pleasant and widening to work near the moving river in such mildness. Indoors I do get to my desk. I have workshop admin that I accomplish. Catch up on emails and miscellaneous. And then I do get to a poem revision. And begin one more. I feel like I am only creeping along with the manuscript right now. But I love teaching my workshops so much. Tomorrow I will also have time to write and will use it. Today as a day seemed too short, even though the clock doesn’t turn until tonight. Frank home from his tennis. We have a rare evening alone in the house. A quiet dinner and watch an episode of The Diplomat. Before waking up this morning I was having an anxiety dream about Wave. And about ice. Ice, ice, ice and cold. Hmmmm. Winter is coming. The red maple is burning bright before burning out.