I walked today, relieved
twisted sisters and Texas trees
survived. Turtles stacked
on same log I seek—
weeping willow branch
lies across water, perfect
angle for sunning. I chase
two geese with my phone,
capture video in quest to play—
silly instinct for an old woman
marking miles across causeway
to choose new stone in same pillar,
setting intentions I sometimes
keep, sometimes forget, often
disregard. Will there ever
be a day without remorse
or is that the subtext of aging?
Are there any poems that mean
anything, really? Yet they must
mean something other than scratching
words on a blank page.
9 thoughts on "I walked today, relieved"
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Young woman, you mean 😏 But I get it, darlin, I do.
age is relative, isn’t it?
After a storm or disaster, it’s a human question to ask about meaning in life. “Scratching” (and that was a good word to use) those words on the page may be one way we scratch our way back into the world. I love that you look to nature for that inspiration.
and it was such a devastating storm this spring. Thank you. Look for another scratching poem. I forgot to avoid leaves of three, sigh.
I loved the sounds and search of this poem.
Thank you.
I liked your exploration of the interesting way our thinking-process becomes more “released” and creative when we walk–we can see things in fresh ways, and I like what you saw, Elizabeth!
Wow! I love that insight. Thank you. Perhaps a little drunk on oxygen? ha
setting intentions I sometimes
keep
Relatable. And walking!