The Same Path

I walk the same route every morning…from this path I do not stray because I have so many friends to greet whom I’ve met along the way. There are the trees that tower to the sky…many, I’m sure, older than me There’s the crickets and the owls and a host of other animals I hear but do not see. There are the shifting clouds that are always moving from right to left or left to right There are the flowers waiting for me…the ones that only bloom at night. There are the toads and the rabbits who dart in and out of the shadows of the moon Who either stand in one place hiding…or hop away too soon. There are the churches with their marquis lit with messages for the mind There are the oranges painted by a friend he graciously has left behind. There are the old folks who live on the corner the early morning enclave who, as I round the corner always smile and wave There’s the homeless lady who never speaks but will occasionally smirk There are the silent streets of a city asleep there’s the bookstore where I work. There are the stars that guide me on this walk, the moon with her occasional grin There are the silent messages I send to my family and release upon the wind. I love this path I’ve chosen love the friends I greet as on this path I roam and I love the way this same path always leads me home.