waking: aware, conscious, alert
Morning musings as I meander not so meticulously. This particular day
was one of those stellar days. It was cold and ice clung to the just-watered
grass. It was crunchy and slippery. I needed to pay attention, at least in
part, to my steps.
Noticing my steps makes for a mindful walk. I see things. Experience
what's going on. Breath could be seen, not just taken in. Air movement felt,
causing hands to be pushed further into jacket pockets. My steps made prints in
the icy grass. So did Bella's and every other dog roaming around.
I would not begin to equate my park walks with my labyrinth walks.
However, I do notice that I walk quickly to get to the park. Slowly while in
the park; leisurely on the way out of the park. This rhythm sets a good tone
for my day.
day is
waking up
assorted birds say it’s so with
their voices
the sun is
much lower; to the south
shadow play
is on a different slant, it streams through sparse leaves, flecked by autumn
freeze-dried
crimson outcasts rustle under foot
a lone train
whistle can be heard in the distance
and brown dog sniffs around
wind rush, a
ginger washed shower fluttering to earth
bracing,
invigorating like the waking day
Missy
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