Walk~

My walk is not about ‘destinations’

-it’s the on-the-way 'collection'

Of odd objects I pick up on these walks!

I crouch over the smallest thing that catches my eye.

Rocks, pretty pebbles, green leaves, tall grey feathers,

small yellow beads, blue marbles, indigo sea shells, the whittled twigs ….

 Ah, the marvellous objects stare straight ahead until I can see them.

Me, like a delighted naturalist squat down, and

 pick the specimens for my kitty.

And... my lunacy for collection continues…

Marvels and more marvels head back towards my house, and

Settle down in my drawers of possessions.

I know what is in every drawer, on each shelf

Each jewel contains a precious story...the kinds

that whips the darkness off the soul.

 ‘the secrets and wonders of my lonely walks’.

Talking to myself:

A city street holds my breath.
The excavators grunt rips the ground
Its claws lifts earth along with

A can of squashed coke, 

.....egg shells, plastic cups, worms, bones!

---Ah, the abused and the abuser

I’ve been both.

I drop my veil…

For Poets United.