Hey legs, keep moving.
Arms swing .
Head up, eyes forward.
Faster than yesterday.
Build a sweat and breathe hard.
Up Health Street, right at Immortal Road,
left on the Lost Calorie Path,
and home again.
This, my daily walkabout.
A real vice packaged as a virtue.
The great added pleasure, my secret life .
On the path thoughts jump delightfully,
no rational order;
free of needed structure for a companion.
Ears tuned to hear the hawk's screech, a child laugh,
or the gentle wind in high leaves of the Eucalyptus tree.
Roaring cars and leaf blowers filtered out.
No need to form words for thoughts
about the graceful hawk.
Morning sun hopefully starts a new day;
painting a parfait silver, salmon pink sky.
Bicycled children off to school.
Vans unloading backpacks, bikes and kids;
too long in red parking zones.
Same route day by day,
new sights along the way.
Wave at the same woman dropping off a child.
No name, no history, no memory.
She is just there every day to spark 50 yards
of scenario writing.
I wonder how she would like the resulting play
in which she is the star?
Will I ever not be a stranger
to the unheard, barely noticed dog?
Do I wear the sidewalk, leave my prints?
Every step, like my morning coffee, raises my optimism
and makes me sure living is a ball.
Now, how would I justify this lovely vice
if it were not good for your health?