Today Felt Wonderfully Normal

 Today I met my dear friends Laurie and Annmarie at Six Mile Cypress Slough for some nature listening and writing.  I was inspired by Richard Blanco before making the trip, and used the end of his poem "American Wandersong" for my format.

For now: Gorgeous day -- low to mid 70s right now and breezy. Dew point in the 60s.

For now: Deep gratitude that I am in this place to take this time. Felt impossible over the past many weeks.

For now: The breeze ruffles my hair and I hear my friends' gentle laughter.

For now: Thinking about the Days of Mindfulness I spent here, and thinking how Julia Cameron calls it "heartfulness."  Distant hawk calls. The breeze wraps around me. I can hear the traffic on the other side of the lake and rookery.

For now: I've come to understand the water is higher than it should be and this is upsetting the ecology. Must be why I'm not hearing the nightly frog chorus. Off to the southwest I hear a whistling bird -- Laurie says it sounds like a creaking playground swing.

For now: An alligator draped across the log, limp, tail curled to catch the sunlight; hawk calling out across the Slough.

For now: A Limpkin picks his way through the water, lifting his legs high and pacing in between the trees.

For now: White feather floats in the clear water, bright green salvinia touching its edges.

For now: I came. I listened. I wrote.