Monday, December 20, 2010

Practica at walking alone

My life is always changed by the tango walk,
A dance with only me on a country road. 
I walk in harmony with music heard within.
Great mysteries are revealed as I walk outside. 
My mind thinks in the language of haiku. 
The lightning-struck tree points to the sky 
With seared center finger, it’s last gesture. 
The upset swallow twitters with no Internet.
A group of deer like voyeurs stares at me. 
I smell the water of a lake far away. 
The walk answers life's mysteries well. . . 
. . . until I walk again.

Photo credit


  1. The first minute or so of this is the beautiful tango walk

  2. Lovely poem like a lot. Thanks for sharing this.


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