at the bottom, i feel my legs work; at the top, i see
Steps [Haiku]
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nine miles down an old dirt road that runs the valley, the road disappearing before the pass, fading into a footpath, and then into a vague notion in a rare turn of events, i can see - but not hear - the whitewater that's running back toward from whence i came, and then on to a sea in some distant country i sit on a grassy hilltop, feeling i'm far enough down the road to be at peace
i walked the rutted road in failing daylight & wondered what I might find when it turned to night & milky moonlight would be the only means to see & i hear the relentless chirp of a bullfrog that can't be seen because it's everywhere to my non-directional ears but still i look for it & i step into a puddle & my sock is squishy with each left step & i go home
Forest Walking: discovering the trees and woodlands of North America by Peter Wohlleben
Walking Meditation by Thich Nhat HanhThe columns of the forest lift the vaulted canopy. I walk down below on the trail that parts understory. Each step through the loam brings me home to barefoot days of yore. When I thought nothing of placing skin to the forest floor -- while letting the woods become me as I grew into it; I would yield my identity. To nature, I'd submit. And in a walk, I did become everything and nothing, falling into a peace at once humbling and stunning.