Walking {Crafted by the Seasons}

I wake early and go walking.  

I am in the grass, on the path, crossing the field as the first rays of warmth break the horizon.  

I am at the edge of the lake when those first beams shine crystals on her surface, catch and release in the easy and constant lapping. 

I breathe in hard that smell of the lake, that unmistakable, probably algae smell that relaxes and inspires because its presence means I am near the water's edge.  

I pause only long enough to know I am here and then I walk on.  

I hear the trees moving against themselves and each other in the almost wind; the breeze that may grow or diminish with the length of the day.  

But I will not be here.

By the time the movement of the air has made up its mind I will be safely back from where I came; part of me wishing I could have stayed to learn of its choice.    

With gratitude,


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