#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

. . .

Unbraiding in the sun,--
When, stooping to secure it,
It wrinkled, and was gone.
Several of nature's people
I know, and they know me;
I feel for them a transport
Of cordiality;
But never met this fellow,
Attended or alone,
Without a tighter breathing,
And zero at the bone.

~ Excerpt from “A Narrow Fellow in the Grass,” Emily Dickinson

 it was a three-snake morning, on my walk, August 1, through the meadows lush with Queen Anne’s Lace & tiger lilies and grapevine and every other kind of climbing vine. It was cool, almost like fall, and sunny, and the sky big with clouds. And my blood running fast with ideas and thoughts, insights and awakenings. Outpourings. Notes for poems. All of it kept coming. This coiled snake, sunning, in the vines and leaves of overgrowth. Then, two more, in the trail, moving out of their sunning to let me go by, skittering away into grass. I wrote before walking. I wrote after walking. I think I started three poems for the manuscript today. I am in a new phase. I slept hard, woken by a phone call. Wave coming home early. I made him strawberry shortcake for breakfast with fresh strawberries. A treat. I had two poems published today in Common Ground Review. One is for my new manuscript, Rambler & Madonna; the other is a grandmother poem, In which I grandmother play woodcutter & wolf. You can read them both here.