I slept in somehow and was awakened by the ringing phone and my brother's voice informing me there have been tornadoes in Connecticut, and he and others have no power and may not have power until Sunday. There is no school and Katy is home reading a book. I may complain sometimes when my power is out, but there is a peacefulness to it. I walk more, read more, and enjoy fire and candlelight, so it will work out, and tornadoes in CT. seems a bit unusual to me. I am grateful their homes and lives are intact. I give thanks for that.
Jane and I spoke about the two whales caught up in the bay. When we were at Esalen, she looked down off the cliff and saw a mother whale and baby and two other whales traveling close to shore. The timing works that these may be the mother and baby. They were late to be going north and it seemed odd they were hugging the coast. Prayers today that these two whales, mother and calf, find healing and an ebb tide full enough to carry them back out of the bay. They need ocean salt and food.
Here is Jane's poem of this morning. Mine is still to come. Jane and I both were caught in morning dreams.
The basement door was open slightly. As we slept
the breathing house snored it closed and open,
closed and open
throughout the night. A part of me in dreams got up to close it.
But in the world of wakening the door stayed open, breathing.
Each quiver, each chatter of latch to strike plate pulled me up from dreams.
Each hiatus plunged me down. All those who in my life
I wash in worry appeared in places out of context, each one stranger
with each dive into the deep end, the mind’s edge sharp and clean
when I awake to morning.
- Jane Flint