Morning Walk (A poem, I think)

Oak trees stand sentinel on both sides of us

As we walk down our country road.

Cows stare with a look of mistrust.

The dog prompts their foreboding,

But in them she displays no interest.

 

I come across a noisy tree.

Wary inspection discloses a deep, dark fissure

That hums and thrums with intrigue.

Alas, it’s a home for diligent bees;

I don’t bother them, and they don’t bother me.

 

Litter is scattered here and there: bottles, cans,

Plastic, and paper—indifferently tossed by intruders

Who unknowingly pass on their way to extinction.

I castigate the dumpers with unkind thoughts

For foisting their mess on my grandchildren’s planet.

 

Dead trees have fallen, dignity be damned.

Once mighty and strong, they lie pushed aside

Now reduced to kindling. Thorny vines that once hugged

The giants, struggle to find new purchase

On the young, designated replacements.

 

We keep moving on, Penny and me,

Her with her nose to the ground, and

I in reverie. It’s my health again

That captures my thoughts: that pain

In my hip, that burn in my ankle.

 

But, I’m walking, I think; I’m up and about.

I’m headed toward something, and then I’ll go back.