The Walker
The Walker
Sometimes, there is a sense that the road doesn't
roll out further, there is no vista of a highland or a slow-running river of sweet water to lazily swim
while remembering Marilyn in Lazaro's jewelry shop, a dream so vivid, not dim, as the years roll by.
It is time to take the boots out of the cupboard try them on, and feel how they make your feet walk
Travel light, a rucksack will do, and a solid walking stick to fend off dogs.
The upland has no rain, although it might shower
on the way there; at night, you can seek shelter
in an empty bear lair and sleep well till the thrush
says it is time to walk on if you want to find the place you know is there, over the horizon
In the dulcet knowledge of the longer one walks
the younger one feels.
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