The Lost Art of Walking

August 13, 2010
Nobody walks anywhere anymore. It seems that the younger generation needs some form of transportation just to get around the block. But there's more to walking than putting one foot in front of the other. It's noticing things along the way. And it's a nice metaphor for life. Besides, even God enjoys a good walk (Genesis 3:8).

The Lost Art of Walking
Does not matter where you start or started;
comfortable shoes are wise, a bottle of water necessary;
any and all weather acceptable, sunny with a breeze preferable.

through the school playground littered with jungle gyms, swings, and slides
wads of paper tucked between the grass blades
chewing gum tattooed on the sidewalk
crossing over railroad tracks cutting perspective through trees
tight-rope walking narrow shoulders too close to oncoming traffic
soft shoulders sprinkled with litter like shed tears
full-blast electric hum, buzz of insects in the powerline cut
cigarette butts congregating against the curb
multicolored mulches
close-up, slow-motion landscaping
     every untrimmed branch standing out in hi-def, bold relief
question mark butterfly--what is it's taxonomic label in Latin?
deserted service station
     oily parking lot, empty abandoned cracked pavement fading lines
red clay, rocks, grass (carefully manicured this side, gone to seed that side)
anthills
back roads and small businesses you cannot see from the highway
there's a picnic table behind the firehouse
there's another one in the cemetery--go figure
sidewalks end

arriving home is like walking into your hometown
that you haven't been to since you were a kid
it's old and familiar and surreal and new