There are many attitudes
of walking on this
Sunday morning.
The 20 and 30 somethings
in their running clothes
cooling down from their
runs, linking arms, coffee
cups in hands.
The 30 and 40 somethings
walking and keeping a watchful
eyes on their children, as
they run joyfully ahead.
The 50 and 60 somethings
trying to keep a steady pace
their excess weight slowing
them down.
Then there are the 70 and 80
somethings who,
appear to be pretending to
walk with a purpose, but it is
easy to discern that they have
no real destination other than
a play to thwart loneliness.
Yet all generations have
one thing in common.
Move, move,move…
Than you won’t feel.
A helicopter sores overhead.
No one looks up.
I think it’s a good day for a
helicopter ride.
A rope ladder comes down
from the sky, I ascend.
There are many ways to fly.
High on a helicopter above lady liberty.
Hanging gingerly onto the rope.
Spin round and round,
above Lady Liberty.
Reach out and touch her torch.
High on a helicopter ride.
I have no place to land.
The walkers
below me continue
to move in their directionless
path.
I know exactly where I'm going.

10/19/2014

Posted on 10/19/2014
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