007

I walk with a pad and paper now.
Until I get this out of my system.
Madly writing as I walk - fits and starts.
The neighbors probably think I am spying on them.
Writing them up
for some minor infraction
of neighborhood law.
Either that - or I'm going to walk into a cactus.
Or a mailbox.

hawk
she rises and soars
wingtips pointed to the sun
dancing with the wind

wind
leaves dance around me
as I walk in swirling air
the stones dream of space

parallel
chased by a white wind
I run through clouds of amber
glowing like the sun

backwards
rough, cobbled pavement
reminding me of childhood
stopping my new skates

(I had said, no guarantees.)