Rambling reflections
I am walking with a tattered book in my hand through the school corridor.
It is dimly lit and at the end of it sits an old man.
The static on his radio sends echoes through the corridor and down my spine.
But nothing scares me that night.
I was breaking away from authority. That walk was freedom.
Down in the under pass and up on the fly over,
we are walking back from the glassy and glitzy mall.
The construction workers building the big skyscrapers have gone home,
leaving the floodlights on.
“That must be a nice view from the balcony.
Wonder, how much would it cost?”
A little loose on beer and blues. That walk was a dream.
Below freezing and I am in three layers of clothing.
The side-walk is icy and there’s some fresh snow predicted.
But yet I walk to the nearest Cumberland Coffee.
For the coffee? Definitely not. That walk was respite.
Into the woods. The trail’s covered with dry leaves and occasional beer bottles left over from last summer.
I am looking for where this trail might lead us.
I am thinking of Columbus and his voyages. That walk was discovery.
I am taking a stroll by the river. It is springtime.
A gaggle of geese pose on the banks as people in masks click pictures.
There’s a discussion about Seneca’s stoicism playing in my earphones.
I am out in the nature looking for a mirror. That walk was a therapy.
I will add two things for further reading here that lead me to writing this.
- I was reading this poem the other day(you can see how impressed I was that I shamelessly stole a line or two from there), and I felt so captivated by this line in particular that I felt the urge to write about nothing.
Lord, most of what I love
mistakes itself for nothing.
2. Then, this article that I read a year or so ago, that talks about rambling reflections that come about on random walks.
