Many walks in my life
challenged, consoled, inspired
me–it is the walk, after all,
where things happen
Like on the road to Damascus
or that famed walk in the woods
by Thoreau, Bryson, Winnie the Pooh
Maybe it has to do with the air
in the woods. Crisp, freshly
oxygenated, but damp, too
Or perhaps it is the solitude,
like Emerson claimed we need,
when we escape our lives
For me, the walk, whether
down the aisle or around the
block has meant something more
Always ending up here on the page
I circle back for meaning
wondering who or what will appear.
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