#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Cutting my tracks after blizzard

Awake at dawn, the orange rising after the blizzard of snow across the field to the river. I don’t have to rush out as poetry workshop is canceled. From comments last night on a poem revision, I dig into the work I trust it needs and I don’t know what I’ll do, but that’s revision: it cannot happen in the head. It happens on the page. Words must go away, lines must move, stanzas can be rearranged. I feel as if I cut through to something deeper, better. I have separated this poem from another and I put the two back together in a new way. I think this is working better. It’s more interesting to me. We shall see. Then I go out. Frank has repaired my snow shoes, so I wear them out to get through deep snow and then I realize I need to shovel the garage area from the plow to get my car out. This is some heavy snow. I change from snowshoes to skis. I think the skis can cut the trail, and they can. So I make an interesting trail around the property in the fresh snow, through the trees, along the river, and past the tent which has fallen in again. Another broken pole and a collapse under the weight of snow. Frank says he can fix it. We’ll see. The snow is quite deep, of course, but I really want this trail cut. I go into Trustees along the trail, hoping perhaps someone has already laid tracks, but it’s virgin snow and there are so many branches broken and snow laden blocking the trail that I turn around and reverse course over all my cut trail. Tomorrow I’ll go out early before it warms up, before it starts to melt and stick, before the rain they say will come. Wave home all day. We played a little. Tomorrow school reopens. I made dinner for Frank and me. I made turkey chili and he was grateful. Group tonight, as always, enriching. Almost March and metl.