Connections

Even a fox can get exhausted

straining for all the sounds.

The world will shrink if it doesn’t change

Opulence doesn’t guarantee happiness

She learns from an Indian friend

A butterfly can tilt Indra’s net.

Delight when scenery 

unfolds before you

wherever you are.

You may be alone 

but you will not be lonely.

Her silence is a conviction 

not to judge others 

by any standards.

She will pass by a garden

and admire a flower

for what it is.

A neighbor will ask her, 

Did you see Mary today,

going to church dressed 

improperly?

It is a warm weather finally,

she will answer.

She may not be precise,

that’s what she sees.

Pilgrimage

A pilgrimage of the heart,

an errand of the spirit

I will take a morning walk 

and knock on my friend’s door,

lean on a tree, feel the root’s vibrations.

I  will fold my hands and listen to stories:

People walking, their pockets heavy with stones,

birds singing sad songs and hiding  their wings from the sun

riverbeds with broken porcelains,

multi-syllabic prayers uttered in silence at Angelus.

A child and a lady smile and wave 

when I pass by on my way home 

on the sidewalk with wild flowers 

blooming next to the iron fence.

I have been walking to the river again since 4 days ago. I did not walk today.

Ancient Habit

A thought 

awaken you from velleity

a summon to bear fruit

you lace your shoes

you start walking, an ancient habit

fresh persuasion of open air,

feelings of space and seeing

the outdoors, vast and hospitable, 

slopping hills 

you bravely ascend steps, 

carefully accelerate descent

blistered heels and suffering knees,

and muscle burns

temporary distractions,

hesitation gradually fades

one step at a time, the trodden way

strength prospers and optimism lifts

exhilaration and healthy elements

you huddle a new circle, your kindred:

sway of stride, unhurried banter, 

their voices twinkle in greetings

you don’t have to

but you keep a journal 

the notches, tiny achievements

nourishing pastoral scenes, 

joy of jotting experiences

the long walks

you observe the olympians, 

their constancy

you wonder how they do it

the focus, the intensity

the magnitude of sacrifices

you weigh yours in gratitude

you try to understand, 

is there time to exult or console

you are in your eighties

you dare to disturb life expectancy

in full measure.

From the balcony

I am sitting on a chair,

eating an egg cheese sandwich

next to a table where

a blue jay is alighting

my seem absurd

The surprise is I’m not surprised

a natural way of recognition

maybe a sacred moment

an angel disguised as a bird

a simple intimate detail of grace.

Below on the walking path

mountain hikers indulge the outdoors, sunshine

somewhere, everywhere the virus rages.

Outdoor magnet

It’s summer and school is on vacation. The mountain trail has a

lot of hikers and cyclists.

The scent of pine, fresh air, and spacious outdoors are magnets.

I ventured out yesterday. I felt so free and energized.

Mrs. Abstract watched me returned from my hike.

Second day

On the second day while acclimatizing to the altitude I watched from the balcony people who came down from the mountain passed by.

Some walked, some biked down in their mountain bikes.

I’m reading Dante’s Inferno and 2666 slowly.

Change of pace

After a few days delay Mrs. Abstract and I finally drove up the mountains today. We were scheduled to leave on Monday but I did not feel well. I felt better last night. We brought a lot of food to limit trips to the grocery store and limit eating out in restaurants.

We will try to stay inside the condo. Walk and hike in the woods, reading and maybe writing. I play chess while Mrs. Abstract watch movies.

It’s quiet here in the mountains although when we arrived there were thunderstorms.

Books I am reading: Divine Comedy by Dante. Translated by Hollander & Hollander. I’m starting Roberto Bolaño 2666.

 

The Little Things

In life is not easy to calculate our losses

Or emphasize our gains

There are disguises that betray us

Our vision is not always sharp to distinguish differences

Today like most days

I walk to the river

Others have similar ideas

I encounter a blue heron,

A lone bird resting on the reeds

And red flowers radiant in the sun.

Length of Stay

Length of Stay

There is no more boredom or uneven walk on the hiking trail
No more mere acorns and colored pebbles from the riverbed
A new day of catastrophe’s widening reach
Wearing a mask wherever one goes
Suspicion of catching the virus when traveling, talking with friends and strangers
Living in narrow corridors
A suffocating feeling, counting the hours
Waiting when the end come?
With fear of being left alone and contagious

Today I walk to the river
There is a pink breasted bird flying from one branch to another, from one tree to another tree
Tweeting and communicating in a high pitch bird talk
I see a fisherman attending to his line
The fish has not touched any of his baits
But living is not all about intensity and patience
Not all about uncertainties and business hours
Life is also about the every day simplicity: corn on the cob and opening an umbrella during the rain,
A good book, kind thoughts, and Beethoven
And kissing you goodnight.

The Path

“We just arrived,” say the fishermen

“It’s a Siberian huskie,” he says.

“They become cold easily,” she says

Both dogs are wearing colorful sweaters.

Day’s radiance lifts my feet

I meet them in my walk 

The same path every morning whenever I can

As if I’m trying remember each column of trees,

Their abundant leaves and shades.

 

I often think of Camino de Compostela.

I hold with interest Appalachian Trail.

I hear the sounds of hot air balloons overhead

I better get going

Thoughts can escape

I can’t separate appearances and their contents

The dogs, fishermen, river and its tides

One doesn’t have to wonder where poems come from. 

 

The walk brings life to life.