Sunny and 57 degrees yesterday afternoon. I walked to the river. Met other walkers. Watched the clouds and birds. Just like today.
Tag: walking
Farther than before
I walked farther today than the previous days: three miles. I crossed Napa River on an elevated bridge and connected to the river trail, to the downtown then returned home on another street.
It was 65 degrees, sunny with a cool breeze. I met along the way other walkers and cyclists. We all practiced the safe distancing. There colorful flowers and plants and art.
I stopped a lot to take photos.
Walking with my grandchildren
Yesterday I walked with my two grandchildren and their dog for two and a half hours. My granddaughter took the photo.
Today, Saturday, I walked in the afternoon. It was cool 63 degrees. I brought my camera to take photos of the birds I see during my walk to the river. I know the blue heron and the red wing blackbird but I don’t know the other birds.
Books I am reading:
The Seven Storey Mountain by Thomas merton
Mastering the Art of French Eating by Ann Mah
A Beautiful Question by Frank Wilczek
At The River
At The River
The lines are cast
The fish are not biting
A fisherman wonders why
I don’t know
From a distance in the walking path
Two walkers are approaching
Ask them the question when they arrive.
The base of a tree is surrounded by stones
The other trees are not.
It’s winter even in a tiny vineyard
Meantime I’m walking back home
I’m thinking what I will have for lunch
Will xfinity know?
Morning walk
Thin clouds cover the blue sky
The stuffed lion left by someone yesterday is gone
Cool breeze touches my face
The blue heron waits on the other side of the river
The riverbank is empty of fishermen
I will walk back home
Take a bowl of ramen from the fridge.
Begin again
HAPPY NEW YEAR
Dawn. A new beginning.
Realization
I walk slow
as if it is too cold to walk
It’s only autumn
no icicles are hanging yet from tree branches
with stiff knees I struggle
to gain only a short distance
as if crawling
I’m not too old either
Agility is not a property of the young
I’m too young and ashamed
to realize I’ve grown old.
Walking slowly
After your stockings are filled with your feet
and you put on your shoes
you can start walking.
Why? Did he lose his belt?
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.
edgarone2