Walking

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.

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photo: from m mobile phone.

Conversation during my dream state

What do you do?
I travel a lot.

Your answer is inadequate.
The question is broad.

Where do you travel?
Anywhere in the country.

Do you deal with people?
I engage people, the living.

Do you attend a lot of meetings?
Seldom to few.

Do you deal with finances?
Hardly.

Do you work everyday?
I have off days.

Do you do fine arts or performing arts?
I wish I could.

Are you proud of your work?
Noble work. Privileged. Yes.

What are you?
I’m a good listener. We should talk again.

note: during my hospitalization I met traveling nurses,doctors, and Allied Health Professionals. I talked with them in snippet.

secret whisper

At dawn you were riding a hot air balloon
anticipation of beauty and terror
a landscape of vineyards, mountains, houses in cluster and solitary
one thousand, two thousand feet or higher

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the perspective became wider, objects became smaller
even at the highest point a limit of what you could see
a grain of sand of reality or imagination
light and vision, dreams
lingering at the threshold of waking

then the balloon descended
restoring a balance,“the gravity of unadorned song”
doesn’t sound “intelligent or coherent”
of “what just vanished, a shadow moving away”.

After clouds lifted you experienced
a brighter morning, an eternal frame of hope
“a line of beauty”, “ a riddle”,
“a beauty wedded to something meaningful”,
psst, a secret whisper from an alleyway.”
note: the quoted words are from the book. The Goldfinch, by Donna Tartt. The story is rich, superb.