I just found a lovely memoir of William Stafford on Lorna Dee Cervantes' blog. I had forgotten that I read in his Writing the Australian Crawl that he wrote a poem a day as part of his regular practice. One I'm beginning to share, along with a daily walk.
Stafford wrote his poem after his daily walk. No wonder he was so prolific. Walking is the easiest way to get my creative juices going. I don't know why, but once I'm outside my mind expands along with my horizons. I've been this way since childhood. Perhaps it was growing up in southern California, near the ocean, with moderate temperatures day and night, most of the year. Wandering outside was just natural. Some days, with all the windows and doors open, and our floor-to-ceiling glass at the back of the house, it was hard to tell if you were inside or outside.
I just got back from an evening walk, another lovely way to settle down the creative fire. Watching the hills turn pink and then mauve and then the sky lights up. Arriving at peace, wherever you head, just by looking up.