Walking is a big part of what I do. Walking, seeing, listening. Sharing that experience with others, and trying to bring some fragments of it back. Yesterday there was a walk, today there is a fragment.
Blood crimson droplets gleam against the sky
Seed-heavy haws swollen by summer rain
Birch and beech leaves flame the dying season
As cycles turn and darkness comes again.
Speak of the loss and grief, so vast to hold
Silence shared, there is no sense to find
But comfort in the recognition gleaned
Of all that passes, all we leave behind.
We carry loss and truth in equal weight
Hearts wide and willing to be broken
Bewitched by scarlet fruit on blackened bough
By stories told, and stories left unspoken.
I seek but for the path, the heart’s release
The blessings of both reverie and peace.