The leaves were changing colors.
Today on my third day
of walking after the fall
I reached the river.
I saw a blue heron, maybe
a younger one, feathers paler blue
Bending down to tighten my shoe laces
I found a penny next to my shoe
I felt richer.
Is it a journal or diary
or just doodling?
Both need writing
and thought.
and repetitions.
We drink a bottle of wine
The moon shines on the town square
Tomorrow we will go fly fishing
We spread our vacation days
Seldom we feel so fresh
And asking questions.
Afterwards, school.
What will be to light our way
Knowledge or experience?
Since my fall about 4 weeks ago I have not walked to the river until today. I walked halfway, easing my way slowly.
I felt good.
Yukka and palm trees shadow the sun
Thorns and leaves abound
Life.
Books I am reading:
Middlemarch by George Eliot
(with my Book Club)
Coming to Our Senses by Jon Kabat-Zinn
Walking
your eye catches
light’s reflection on a spider web
a hammock hanging between
a tree and fence
neurons interlaced to strengthen memory
a bridge for retrieval and deep learning
atoms, stars, horrors
of war, how to be a shepherd
the interlacing of flowers,
spices and herbs in a garden
flowers complementing appearances
and passion
plants to engender savory taste and texture
a simple life prepared a table of elegance
you resume walking
each step echoes
music of Beethoven, imaginative spark of
Virginia Wolff’s stream of consciousness
to express an exhilarating day.
Walking to the river
I met many women walkers today
in twos, in threes
walking a dog,
walking a stroller
walking with a walker
I heard conversations
words I could not understand
I passed by an adult retirement home
glanced at people playing bocce
The sun was higher now
almost home
In crossing a street
my shoe stubbed the edge,
Like a lightning, I hydroplaned
on a concrete walkway,
For a moment I could not believe
it happened
large bruises on my knees,
palms of my hand
my stick laying in front of me,
my eyeglasses, intact
my bones, none were broken
A car stopped,
a lady driver got out, offered
to help me. I thanked her
I stood up on my own.
I arrived home to attend
to my wounds.
I was full of gratitude.
An extraordinary day
The books I am currently reading: Middlemarch by George Eliot and The Artist’s Journey by Marcia Shaver.
Goodbye my friend
sail on
the sea awaits you
words without end
Jammed with the rocks at the riverbank
Submerged in water at high tide
Saved by a fisherman brought inland
Now you are with flowers along the walkway
Which journey will I find you again?
You can’t venture on your own.
Will you vanish somewhere
Or drift into oblivion
What will happen if Kierkegaard
or Salvador Dali find you?
I don’t think I will be dancing in strawberry field
I may write about absurdity of abandoned grocery carts.
Perhaps some ideas are astonishing
We think of wild things
Like kissing at the middle of storm
I will not be writing in Russian.
note: The book I am reading: Either/Or by Elif Batuman.
The walkers rest
The vulture hovers
The woman in red is nowhere
I find a penny for your thoughts
How often do we return to a place of enchantment
How do we “recognize the infinite value of every moment”
Rilke says, we desperately try to hold these moments in our hands
Today in my walk I found 12 cents of coins on the ground
Place them among the fowers
A moment of happiness
Not because of the new found wealth
It completes the wholeness of the universe
A new day
The children tell me: Be Kind.
The monk tells me: Listen.
My mentor says: Love.
Note: During my morning walk today I met again the woman in red. Photos from my walk.
edgarone2
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