HIT THE ROAD — peregrinations

One foot in front of the other,
BREATHE, carefully
Step in the mud
Will my footprint
Become a fossil – years
Past present future

Pebbles falling
From the mountain path
Bone dust & dirt
Mist rising

Life’s a series of dreams
Black Crow calling
Mischief Maker

Begin Again.

Where-ever I am, I’m home…

Today, I decided to walk-a-bout,
Really just to hear the Mockingbird shout.
All it wants to say is that “I AM HERE.”
Very few ignore this bird I hold dear.
Ever so often I stroll, my eyes closed,
Leaving, with my imagination posed.
I stand between the tree’s roots, looking UP.
Note that branches are roads, celestial YUP.
Going places, easy, without a doubt.