—∞—
If only words could let me share
But what can they do?
Re-imagining a morning walk
On an hilly dirt road
Through the woods
Past driveways leading down to the lake
To hidden cabins
Early morning rising sun
Leaves bursting with color
Light flirting with shadows among the trees
Aspens shimmering in an unnoticed breeze
It was very cool, if not cold
Hands taking turns
Between pocket and hiking stick
A deer’s follow-me white flag
Bounding, bounding, bounding … gone
At the bottom of a hill
A pair of ducks exploding from a small pond
Little flocks of tiny birds
Gathering something for breakfast
Amidst the weeds and lingering wildflowers
Unnoticed before
The breeze has picked up
And plays with the holes in my walking stick
A horrible flute
Producing a tone that is simply beautiful
Appearing then vanishing
With the rhythm of my gait
An hour later
Back at the cabin
Warm
Invigorated
Sitting by the window
Steaming cup of coffee
Sparking lake beyond the sheltering glass
© 2015 Thomas W. Cummins
Tags: exercise, Minnesota, Nature, personal, poetry, serenity, Solitude
October 1, 2015 at 11:12 am |
If only words could let me share….and then you do, with so much detail. I enjoyed your walk Tom. Will read this again.
October 3, 2015 at 2:41 pm |
Teri, I do believe the recollection needs some work, but I’m at the point where things need to be jotted while I have some vague remembrance. Is it Mary Oliver who never leaves the house without her notepad? That time, it would seem, is here.
October 4, 2015 at 12:44 pm
A notepad to capture the essence of the experience which is deeply ingrained in the feeling, to be recounted and explored later.
October 3, 2015 at 5:19 am |
nice, Tom…i do long walks too.
October 3, 2015 at 2:36 pm |
Virgilio, Had another wonderful walk this morning. Colors are peaking here in northern Minnesota. Cloudless, deep-blue sky providing an apt backdrop for the display here below. Now, an horrendous, window-rattling wind in the process of providing work for me over the next few days. Time to get out the rakes before I close things up for the winter.