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waking


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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