Poem: The woman who walked

When I was a kid 

there was a woman who walked. 

Not to the store, 

not to work,

she just walked.

 

She was my ballerina,

impossibly slim and revealing

only calves of steel below her skirt.

I loved watching her,

and wondering why she walked.

 

Now I wish I could show her

that I finally understand.

 Because all I want to do is walk.

Not to work,

not to the store,

just walk.

And see what the trees I met yesterday

want to show me today.

Photo by Nathan DeHart