deep peace
Tonight I went for a walk. I left at dusk in sandals and a light jacket, just as the sky was going grey.
I went south, moving easy; I smelled dirt, and new-grown bulbs, and trees going into bud, and exhaust and water and things becoming all over the place. I went further and smelled woodsmoke from the bagel shop oven, (open 24 hours and 365 days) then turned to walk along the water in the gathering darkness.
I took the other path tonight, the one I've never taken before. It winds along the far side of the street, between trees and past patches of almost-tulips, waiting to become carpets of colour in the season's change. I found a tucked-away monument cradled in an arc of benches, and quiet patches of grass perfect for reading someday this summer. All the while the lights glinting off the wide, wet ribbon to my right, curling and bending, matching every move of the asphalt under my feet. I resisted the temptation to go barefoot, but I will not resist all summer--I will slip off my sandals and let my roots go down and my leaves go up, like in the Robert Fulghum essay--and no one will know how or why...that's just how it always is. When I got home the sun was down and I was breathing deep, measured breaths all the way into my soul. I could not find spring, but it has found me.
Hallelujah, amen, and blessed be.
PS: I notice Jill has opened up comments. Good job, Jill! That's awesome. And brave. I will continue to resist, for now.
I went south, moving easy; I smelled dirt, and new-grown bulbs, and trees going into bud, and exhaust and water and things becoming all over the place. I went further and smelled woodsmoke from the bagel shop oven, (open 24 hours and 365 days) then turned to walk along the water in the gathering darkness.
I took the other path tonight, the one I've never taken before. It winds along the far side of the street, between trees and past patches of almost-tulips, waiting to become carpets of colour in the season's change. I found a tucked-away monument cradled in an arc of benches, and quiet patches of grass perfect for reading someday this summer. All the while the lights glinting off the wide, wet ribbon to my right, curling and bending, matching every move of the asphalt under my feet. I resisted the temptation to go barefoot, but I will not resist all summer--I will slip off my sandals and let my roots go down and my leaves go up, like in the Robert Fulghum essay--and no one will know how or why...that's just how it always is. When I got home the sun was down and I was breathing deep, measured breaths all the way into my soul. I could not find spring, but it has found me.
Hallelujah, amen, and blessed be.
PS: I notice Jill has opened up comments. Good job, Jill! That's awesome. And brave. I will continue to resist, for now.
posted by raj at
9:08 PM
