Tag Archives: walking

Things I Find

there’s a gloss to these streets

bits of toss away debris

a cast off blue sweatshirt

wet and heavy from last night’s rain

so many windows on wheels

strangers passing going somewhere

walking thoughts may wander

eye on pavement eye on clouds in a grey sky

every journey is an add-to collection

see the tragedy of humanity see the joy

a yellow rose bloom in winter

tree limbs shaped like a giant waving bear

a tiny smiling elephant dancing

despite dirt and black mould

licking their way along the concrete wall

so close below🪶

The Pink Bird of Happiness

probably anyone can paint a fence

shall I list the steps to accomplish this feat?

I would rather you search on duck duck go

or seek an instructional youtuber’s generosity

isn’t there every solution to be found there?

my interest has more to do with the importance

of walking

not merely walking though movement has

its benefits

lubrication and other basics like using

what you have for what it is you have today

is not guaranteed to be found faithful or even

present in your tomorrow

no—-

walking walking at any pace fast or slow

in any direction toward no particular

destination

you may call it « wandering »

but walking at any pace, mais oui (I have lately

rekindled a penchant for acquiring some

competence in a language other than the

familiar anglais) but yes, walking with a gaze of

clear eyed curiosity

You can ponder any subject, troubling or not

or settle a difference of opinion

between yourself and your monkey mind while

concurrently looking around with interest

your own shoes don’t need more attention

leave them be, to function as foot covers

walk

look

pause

then walk some more

it might be you find you walk a long long way

you feel buoyant or grateful or just ready

Nevermind casting a line out for reasons

your heartbeat is the reason

and the shimmer in your eyes that have seen

what there is to be found along the way

You’ll be glad you saw the gift someone left

a bouquet of lavender on the path

a hand printed haiku at the base of a tree

or a smiling pink bird painted on a stone

propped on a dilapidated fence post

awaiting new paint🪶

Neighbourhood Rules

Red-winged black bird sings his warning

country road is ending soon

Ditch daisies squint and clematis whispers

We can’t go with you over there

Airport traffic chorus in the roundabout

Somebody’s humming off key

Discarded at the edge

between tall grasses and concrete

blue sleeping bag curls around absence

Who slept here under the stars last night?

I ask Dandelion who only smiles and waves

Secrets are secrets

Nobody’s coming back this way

All the traffic halts for the walker

I hope I don’t limp or stumble

Impatience rising with mercury on tongues

Wind’s playful on the overpass

Lovers’ lock marks hearts’ forever embrace

I won’t jump

but I imagine what mess a falling

would make

There is the town in the distance

You can smell her everywhere

I pause with the dogs in the alley

to comb my hair

There’s a sign in the Garry Oak on the corner

No heavy big trucks welcome there

Shelter

Inappropriate footwear

slows the pace

mind your steps

mind the path ahead

mind the earth below

mind your mind

pause for quiet homage

pause for gratitude

raise your gaze highway

from beneath the grace of shade

one hundred years standing

balsam poplar still reaches

to touch the edge of summer clouds

Ditch Blossoms

One day a week when the sun shines around here I go wandering the hills and streets without warning signs

I hum an old country tune I’m not sure the name of

I might close one eye as I’m stepping to alter my view

Sometimes I walk backwards to see what I’ve left behind

There’s a book stand stuffed with romance I rearrange to make it easier for browsers to choose

Snowdrops grow wild in green ditches

Hands

We were slow shuffling up Pilot Street

I promised I’d show you where fairies reside

Sea was roiling west winds were sighing

Stop for flowers we lingered no consultation between

Sometimes kindred depend on synchronicity not words

Man and his camera honouring life beneath stoic Garry Oak

We decide it’s phenomenon worth brief watching

But it’s the mirror on a trunk affixed askew

Spoke to me about what to do

And I like the way you smiled your acquiescence

Raise your small open hand you gentle friend spirit

I know the difference between a wave of hello and

Help I need rescue