Walks, Part 3

If you walk far enough,
Past my building, and the next, and the next
Across the river and down the path
You reach the point where the trail turns around,
But I didn't.

Brushing aside the branches,
Stepping carefully on uneven ground,
Out of sight and alone
In the middle of the city
I found it.

Like a secret waiting to be told,
Like a song sung in silence,
It exists for its own sake.
Intruding, I pause
And enjoy.

Walks, Part 2

For Lu:

I went out on a walk at lunch,
Out where I work you see a bunch
Of airplanes.



I listen to their engines roar
And watch as overhead they soar,
Those airplanes.



They come in sizes big and small.
I just look up and watch for all
the airplanes.



All through the day and too at night,
With wings that make them seem so light,
fly airplanes.



And so I hope one day to see
My Lucy come to visit me
On an airplane.

Walks, Part 1

I stand up and silently walk down the aisle, past bent heads and grey cubicle walls. Glancing both ways, I clutch my jacket in a suddenly damp hand and step quickly past the row of offices until I reach the door. Before I take a dozen steps into the bright sunlight, I bend down and tie my tennis shoes. My right had slips into my coat pocket, bringing out the paperback novel I carry just for this purpose. Time slips by as I walk the trails around the parking lot. It's a big parking lot. An hour later my reluctant final steps lead me back through the gate, back to work.

Progress Report

For those who are coming to visit us soon, this is the current state of our downstairs.

(1) The 5-gallon bucket of ceiling paint



(2) The room where I just finished painting the ceiling



(3) The living room where there is yet more painting to be done

I'm Scared of the Dark

It feels a little childish to say it like that. It's just that I hear every sound as an intruder, I see every shadow as a place for things to be hiding, and I lay awake at night hoping I don't have to get back up for anything until the sun comes in through the window in the morning. Crossing the street to get the mail is an exercise of willpower. Fumbling with the keys at the front door, I stare into the bushes hoping that rustling is just the neighbor's cat. And being home alone, I check the closet and shut the door before turning out the light. Goodnight.