in answer to why the long walks
always to the same place, i
think i think best at strolling pace.
and the route familiar would not
disrupt nor derail nor hold the doors please! delay
my train of thoughts.
light in the willows dancing.
the wind branches every each way and teases
the trees, boughs and leaves.
we cross to the sunny side, the sun
pats our heads, slinking down fire-
escapes, under awnings and doorways, the cool shades.
are we there yet? you ask. and we are,
wherever we are, each faring no mean distance,
together twice as far.
*note to "saturdays"