March 2025 SOLC–Day 3
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org
Yesterday my friend, Margaret Simon, wrote about her early morning walk, and I knew immediately that that was what I would write about today. Unlike Margaret, I don’t take walks before school during the week, nor do I meditate. My walks tend to happen early on weekend mornings. Most often they involve sunrise and photography, which means they are more like saunters than power walks. Some of them become more about standing still than about moving.
Yesterday morning, even though I knew it was cold outside, I opted to head out to the local river I drive over every day on my commute. Most days while rushing to work I wish I had time to stop and take a picture. Most days I’m already feeling the pull of too much to do, and don’t stop. Yesterday, with the generosity of Sunday morning time on my side, I hoped for some rising mist from the river, a burst of brilliant colors at sunrise, or some other photo-worthy moment.
As it turns out, the morning was not particularly spectacular, unless you were talking about the wind and the cold, which were out in full force. Still, I parked by the river and walked out onto the bridge, getting buffeted by gusts of biting wind. Ice and snow covered much of the river below me. The sky lightened in the east with no dramatic prelude to dawn, just a steady color change. The wind shoved me again and again and sent scrolls of scrawling ripples down the river. By the falls upriver, the valiant small tree, rooted amidst the rocks, defiantly steadfast through all seasons and flood and drought, still stood fast. Way downstream, some sort of duck was busy dipping and diving into the water. A leaf scuttled across the bridge.
I was freezing and my fingers ached, but I was also breathing in the frigid air, feeling the moment flow around me, feeling the sting of cold on my cheeks and smiling.
Margaret included a poem with her post, a lovely invitation and celebration. I thought I might do the same, to try to capture some of my morning “walk”. My first poem came out like this:
OMG! It was cold
really cold
dang cold
COLD!!!
Given Margaret’s mentor poem, I figured I could try a little harder. I’m also trying to channel positivity into my days, and even though the day wasn’t a dramatically beautifully one, my time outside was, as always, deeply fulfilling.
Daybreak
On the river, wind gusts sketch madly.
The water shivers with ripples.
Tree limbs scratch at the white sky.
Despite the chill, the sun
continues to rise,
to face down the
relentless
brutal
cold.
Each
sunrise
offers hope
for a fresh start.
Possibility
lingers every morning.
Even in the aching cold
there’s an insistent thrum of life
beating at the heart of each new day.
©Molly Hogan
Nix the comfort zone 
Love this line: feeling the moment flow around me. I could feel the cold air in my lungs. Your second poem also turned out beautiful. Way to make the most of a day!
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Thanks! It wasn’t the morning I thought I was looking for…but then again, in a way, it actually was!
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Wow Molly! Your entire thing is poetic and I so appreciate that you included your first poem! I love the structure of your poem- it looks like a sunrise, with the light peeking just through in the middle, like a beating heart. You use such vivid descriptions and I feel like I got to be out with you, without being so cold!
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Thanks, Cindy! The cold was so intense. I’m glad you got to experience it only vicariously.
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Haha, Molly! I loved the first poem. Your writing is so, so inspiring! I really like that you chose to write about this walk even if it wasn’t the typical walk people write about. It felt special to me. I often go on walks and judge them a bit too much.
This line was my favorite: the generosity of Sunday morning time on my side.
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To be honest, I mostly judge the days of the week, not my walks. Saturday is a bit more generous than Sunday morning and Monday morning is a skinflint!
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I loved so many lines here, but I’m commenting from the Jetpack app and it won’t let me copy more than one 🤣
“Some of them become more about standing still than about moving.”
The one about the wind shoving you and sending chills up your back.
I still liked that first poem too 🤪 But the second is gorgeous and the format reminding me of reflection on water.
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Thanks, Amy. It made me think of a reflection as well, and I was hoping someone else would notice that 🙂
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Your description of a cold river morning was perfect-I almost felt a blast of air hit me, and your poems even more so. Loved that first poem! Your hour glass poem is interesting-right at the center-“relentless brutal cold-each sunrise offers hope”. Was that your intention with this format?
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Thanks, Debbie. I intended to write a nonet, but when it ended with brutal cold, I realized that didn’t match what I wanted to convey. So, I transformed it into a double nonet and got some of the positive in there–a goal of mine these days!
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I feel truly honored to have inspired such a beautiful post. I love how you describe things with moving adjectives like valiant and steadfast. You wrote a poem before you wrote a poem. I think I would be a total hermit in your climate. Your eventual shaped poem is a wonderful mentor text, poetintentional, a new word coined by ML.
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It’s a double nonet, but I centered it because I liked the way it looked like a reflection that way 🙂 Thanks again for the inspiration–I’d known I was going to write about my walk, but hadn’t planned on a poem until I read your post.
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My favorite line is actually in your description-“with the generosity of Sunday morning time on my side,” as a retired teacher, I felt that. Just lovely- the photo says calm to me with no dramatics.
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Unfortunately, that open time disappeared with a vengeance on Sunday evening! Yikes!
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My favorite line is actually in your description-“with the generosity of Sunday morning time on my side,” as a retired teacher, I felt that. Just lovely- the photo says calm to me with no dramatics.
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Two things: Loved the humor! “Given Margaret’s mentor poem, I figured I could try a little harder. “
Love these paired lines. “The water shivers with ripples.
Tree limbs scratch at the white sky.” I feel your morning.
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Thanks, Dan! I hope you’re gearing up to greet the cold again. It’s been a wee bit brutal this year!
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That’s what we hear about this winter of 2025 after two mild winters in 2023 and 2024. Three cheers for blogging every day!
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Your first poem is so real, so raw, so authentic, so…COLD!! lol!!
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Molly, so good. I always smile at your posts. Your first poem cracked me up. Thanks for sharing your process. (I enjoyed your cold soap bubble photo on Margaret’s site recently too.) These lines are truth, and it makes me believe and hope in a brighter future: “there’s an insistent thrum of life / beating at the heart of each new day”
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My favorite kinds of posts from you! I love the way the poem turns at the midpoint…”each sunrise offers hope…” which also echoes your own sentiments earlier about the deeply fulfilling nature of your early morning walks. Thanks so much for filling my bucket this morning!
Kim
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Such a great poem despite the cold! I’m glad you got time to look at the river for a change. I can’t imagine so much cold, but I’m glad there’s the insistent thrum of life keeping it at bay!
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