Pace

Ruminating, meditating, thoughts while walking.

I set the water to boil and I walk out the house. I’ll be back in time.

Senses slowly integrate, pace adjustments to pavement.

Sweet plant matter smell,

The meeting of sand to wood to water (here in the form of winter road remnants/mulch/rain & dew) nostalgic, like the morning must of a beach or lake cabin.

Towering pines and other conifers I don’t yet know the names of. Their blue green needles spread in uniform waves,

I breathe in their gentle spice as I pass.

I stop for some wild lilies whose unopened flower buds I pick to eat. A line of 6 darling rolls in my palm. I’ll chop for my soup and salad later.

Either at day end or day break a deep mushroom musk invades the air..it feels like an ancient signal and I wonder for whom.

The moon is high and bright and so perfect and clean. Soft gray wounds fleck it’s surface. Grey and pink cloud surround, shift and cover her face.

I come up to a field, the vision feels watery and like I’ve sunk in-I’m surrounded by meadow and I’m drinking in the ethereal fluff of the flowering grasses. The horizon of now black, back lit trees cut through the sun ripening sky. Late sunlight like pollen coats the foliage. There is SO much.

World is cooling, bird sounds ping back and forth in the woods. I’m tempted to tap the body of a tree and feel its hollow sound reverberate through it’s roots. Why don’t I?

Turning back,

I wonder how long it takes to boil water. Hopefully at least a mile’s worth of walk, but I still pick up the pace.

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