Sunday

It's Sunday and I haven't written a word (OK now I have written 14).

I had every intention of working on a poem today, but it just felt so good to think about writing rather than doing it. Sometimes it is the "down time" where one finds the best ideas, and those ideas spring forward to become the next poems. This is happening for me today. I took a long nap, during which I had vivid dreams about pebbles, stones, rocks, cliffs. I was flying on the back of a huge bluish bird that seemed prehistoric. I felt my hair streaming out behind me and didn't need to hang on to the bird to stay on her back. We seemed to be one. My feet were bare, and when I looked down at them, my toes were talons. I could tell what the bird was thinking and she knew my thoughts too. We rode the thermals for a long time until she set me down by a pond in a clearing. She looked directly at me and opened her beak. No sound came from her. She sat with me until I fell asleep. When I awakened she was gone. I was not afraid to be alone.

My job now is to put the images I saw as we flew into something that will have meaning for my readers. I am excited. I am jazzed. I am ready.

But at this moment there is dinner to prepare: a nice prima vera pasta with mushrooms, tomatoes, basil, olive oil, fresh basil and goat cheese. Mmmmm. My hubby and I will make this dish together and eat alone. Our grand boys are both at work. We will eat in the dining room, not in front of the TV.

Later, I will set to work on my poem. I can feel the wind in my hair as I write this.