Choice

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.

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.

Present Moment

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 woman in red returns
Coins among the flowers
Rain drops from last night

A snail wandering

Tide and Consequences

Low tide, 

59 degrees 

fog lines the hills

a plane overhead, 

sounds like distant thunder

I’m walking behind

a woman in red running 

mild breeze shy on my neck,

kayakers riding towards the ocean

I pass an empty bench

an invitation, a luxury

I’m too old

to sit down

Mrs. Abstract will find me frozen

I have other ideas

like loose leaves in my notebook

come, 

let’s ride the tide

let’s go upstream

come.

Morning Walk

58, cloudy, low tide

a woman and her daughter run

a dog runs with a red ball in his mouth 

he drops intermittently to keep up with his master 

A grandma pushes a stroller

two other children walking and talking

vultures hoover, ducks hurry on the river

My morning walk to the river

find excitement in the moment

experience the goodness of the earth

The Root of All Things

A man measures the distance between the trees

The distance of the trees from the path

The distance of the trees from the river

He looks at the sky

His mind can roam infinitely

“Leaving behind unilateral view of things”

Man is not the root of all things

He is not the measure of all things

He finishes his work

Returns home where he tends goats

And bees and grows a garden

He is the village philosopher.

A battered penny among the flowers

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.