Sunday Walk at Dusk

I walk back from the asphalt of the school playground

where I picked up a piece of wood

a tree thought

brought down

in the wind of  two nights ago.

along the sidewalk home

someone might mistake this branch for a gun

in the headlight glare.

I carry it loosely swinging by two fingers

pointing the delicate web of lichen into the headlight

to reflect pale green above the gray silver bark.

maybe they see me and think

about the darkness that I am not.

maybe they only see me vaguely with no comprehension

simply a blank silhouette against the dark shadow trees

the sky holding the last of the day’s blue around

the edges of oncoming clouds.

Maybe they see me and think.


I don’t do enough walking at night. It is strange how it makes me feel younger, a little adventurous, but not in danger.  My mind opens up in different ways when I walk in the dark. I become much less a visual creature and stretch out more with my thoughts, trusting my feet to fall right.

Before my walk I was feeling a bit harassed by thoughts of things I wanted to get done before my weekend comes to a close. Now I feel calmly ready to get what I can done. And I will let tomorrow take care of itself.

This entry was posted in Art in Nature, change, paying attention, poetry, Questions and riddles, thinking in words and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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