Walking trail – another pass

Wayfaring …
the sound of the word rolls
like  dance steps on a path
between two points
subtle fingerposts
marking the way
ever on …

tread lightly
between the scents…
seaweed, salt, rockpools
cleansed by restless water
drawn by the moon…

So many have fished here;
thoughts wandering
over the sea,
high into the sky,
searching for signs,
reading the wind
and the patterns
of clouds
hoping for bounty …

piping seagulls
a counterpoint
to the breathing sea
I walk with a stick
wet lines in the sand …



Walking trail – first pass

A regular slight thunk
on the down beat,
slight flourish
on the rebound,
impressions added
to a sandy path’s patina,

sandy path
I switch to silent footfalls,
a technique perfected
after reading a book
called Two Little Savages.

Feel your way forward
without  hesitation,
slight variations
in the temperature of the air
that brushes your nostrils
inwards and out again.

Pelicans fly in formation,
their profiles
an uneasy reminder
of pterodactyls hunting.

mossy tree
Silent walking abandoned,
I tread bravely
on stepping stone dapples,
lichen colonies on dead wood
catch the light,  make lime green
ridges and valleys out of grey bark
– will they hear the tree fall
when the wind blows hard?

Follow the shadow stones,
trace the curves and the camber;
a slight rise in the path
a swift flash of pink
on a fence frantically waving,
somebody’s skirt left behind,
the leaves whisper insistently,
thoughts sail up to the untimely moon.


Blue throws blueness
along a horizon …
I unfurl and breathe,
the white sun
shall be eclipsed,
obstructed by a tree,
as mackerel clouds
swim serenely
I stand right here
where the earth
kisses the expanding sky.

Heel rolls to toe
balanced on four points,
next foot now,
erasing previous steps,
as uplifting rebounds
ripple through the galaxies.