I wrote a little something in June. Needs work but I think it has potential. Not up to discussing much today. Daniel ( I mnetioned him yesterday) was only 20 and was found dead Sunday morning. Could be drug related--don't know yet. I've been walking at the cemetery lately and find the dead, the trees, and the stones to be good company. One of my walks inspired the piece below.

Variations on a Theme: My Walk With The Dead

Today I chose to walk my three miles
through a cemetery not far from home.
Like every dedicated walker, I seldom vary
routine, the non-stop one foot in front
of the other, the persistent staying on task.

But this day was different. It was the weekend
after Memorial Day. Graves that had not seen
flowers in some time were layered in gestures
of remembrance. Jeff's was one of them. I saw it
when I banked the curve to complete my first mile,
knew I'd stop despite my plans to be diligent. He died
at twenty-six, a wife and two children left behind.
Their pictures were placed at the front of his stone,
smiling faces framed forever in a happier time.

I tried to examine their faces closely, but the sweat
of my efforts poured into my eyes, and the early
morning sun instigated an involuntary blinking
I did not attempt to rectify.

My legs, straining to carry a body
much older than the one he occupied for his twenty-
six years pushed me to move on, to not linger long
in the tall shadows a headstone casts on the manicured
lawn. And, so, on I walked, talked aloud about
how it wasn't so bad to feel the ache of a bad
hip or the weight of my middle years. I climbed one
last hill before pointing my feet toward home,
my tongue revelling as it licked the salt from
a steadily loosening upper lip.