During my walk
when one foot touches the earth
am I honoring someone or something?
The bones buried under the land?
Or the sustenance that rises up the roots
Or the stories heard by the tress told
by storms and musical wind?
I’m resting on a bench, listening
to the music around me, movements
like breaking twigs and leaves scattering
an older lady passes by, we exchange greetings
and talk about the 100 vines of newly planted cabernet,
surrounded by special grain of sand,
on the bend of the walkway.in front of us.
We walk along the path everyday and only
now we do meet. A casual conversation,
tidbits of solace during solitary walks.
They add like intertwining yarn
in beauty and strength.
After a while we say so long
resume our ordinary time.
photo: from m mobile phone.
possessions are not treasures
edgarone2
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