Posted in Uncategorized, tagged freedom, road, walking on April 17, 2020| 4 Comments »
To walk alone
on the dirt road.
Whatever the weather,
to be grateful for it.
To step and step
and step again—
not toward an end,
but for the joy
of stepping.
Squirrel tail.
Creek scent.
Swish of last year’s leaves.
Nowhere to be
but here.
And the next here.
And next.To know
the self as traveler.
To know the self
as road.
To know each step
as freedom when
there’s nowhere
to go.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged challenge, Corona Virus, Donna Burd Fernald, friendship, walking on March 15, 2020| 4 Comments »
for Donna
Today, for an hour,
I let the only news be
my body, my friend,
and the road we walked on.
Our footsteps kept time
to our chatter. We
spoke of family and fear,
health and uncertainty,
friendship and transformation.
We smiled and worried
and reveled in the day.
The hills were steep,
and we liked it that way.
Later I try to remember this—
how sometimes I choose
a challenging path on purpose.
How all the while
we huffed up the hill,
we were surrounded
by bird song, by laughter.
How speaking of difficult things
makes them less frightening.
How the road was a pleasure
when we walked it together.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged connection, friendship, walking on January 31, 2020| 4 Comments »
Despite the fact the road is empty
there’s a way that two friends
will bump into each other as they walk,
as if they are two wine glasses clinking,
toasting to the trees around them,
to the cold clear air, to the laughter
that rises, to the joy of finding themselves
walking the same road at the same time.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged gratitude, poem, poetry, thanksgiving, walking on November 28, 2019| Leave a Comment »
Perhaps that is when Thanksgiving
matters most—when you
walk the empty street alone,
scarred and scared and unsure.
That’s when giving thanks
becomes less of an abstract and more
like the way to take a next breath—
something that seems elusive, but
in fact it’s essential, and it’s right there,
just waiting for you to meet it,
to open yourself, to let it in.
Yes, for now it feels worthy of thanks
that the air is cool and clean and feels
good in the lungs, and the feet know
to walk you closer toward yourself
and the day holds you, holds you
in its soft gray arms, throws
a carpet of dry leaves at your feet,
suggests you keep walking into your life.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged night, poem, poetry, walking on November 11, 2019| 6 Comments »
One way to open your eyes is to ask yourself, “What if I had never seen this before? What if I knew I would never see it again?
—Rachel Carson
And so I memorize how it is
that the cheeks nearly freeze
but the body’s so warm,
how the river informs every measure
but the thoughts sift to silence,
how the body thrills
in its ability to swing one foot
in front of the other, how
walking is just another name
for recovering from falling,
how strange it seems now
that I was once afraid of the dark.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged body, body image, nature, poem, poetry, walking on May 23, 2019| Leave a Comment »
I like my body when I’m in the woods
and I forget my body. I forget that arms,
that legs, that nose. I forget that waist,
that nerve, that skin. And I aspen. I mountain.
I river. I stone. I leaf. I path. I flower.
I like when I evergreen, current and berry.
I like when I mushroom, avalanche, cliff.
And everything is yes then, and everything
new: wild iris, duff, waterfall, dew.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poem, poetry, walking, winter on February 5, 2019| 4 Comments »
—for Kyra
walking the icy hill
every step a triumph—
and us,
crazy enough
to walk it together
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged falling, hiking, journey, lesson, poem, poetry, road, walking on February 2, 2019| 2 Comments »
I followed the road as if it were a teacher.
It went up, I went up. It turned, I turned.
It was a long time before I relearned
that the road is not the only way to go.
The first day I walked away from the gravel,
I fell. That was the day I learned
staying upright is not what’s most important.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged friendship, hill, poem, poetry, walking on August 22, 2018| 2 Comments »
You walk fast,
she said, and
I said, I was walking
fast to keep up
with you, and
she said, I was
walking fast to
keep up with you
and we laughed
at ourselves as
our feet found
a new rhythm,
our hearts, too.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged nature, poem, poetry, walking, work on December 12, 2017| 2 Comments »
Even on a Monday it can happen,
you step out of the office
and instead of going to your car
or making another call or running
to the bank, your feet
and legs conspire to move you
toward the woods where after
only ten minutes you are more breath
than brain, more here than anywhere else—
water drips in the creek bed,
sunlight pushes through empty branches,
and at your sides your arms swing
as if they were made for this.
