a poem in my pocket

I’ll walk down our gravel road, usually alone with God, or sometimes with my neighbor and her boys. We chat along the way and soon we’re back home. I used to take my husky…or she used to take me (I miss my fast and furry companion). I walk a mile or two for the exercise and fresh air.

Other times, I’ll meander through our grove of trees sheltering our house and farm buildings. I go to tune in nature, clear my head and calm my heart. I listen to bird calls, admire the foliage stage of the trees or mushrooms in the grass, and perhaps pick up sticks blown down by our last wind storm. 

A bold rabbit hops closer and pauses to observe me observing him. Long ears twitch before he hops for cover under blue spruce. A black-bibbed flicker tap taps in tree until I pass below; he bobs and flits away. I startle a handsome ring-necked pheasant which whirs up, startling me. Bending down, I pick up a perfect robin’s egg that fell out of the nest, unbroken.

oak trees hold old leaves

prairie winds buffet farm grove

birds mourn fallen nest

Bjorn inviting us to take a walk with dVerse Poets this week…