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One Hundred Words (38)

December 16, 2008, 1:53 am; posted by Steve
Filed under 100 Words, Steve  | 2 Comments

Every season has its own walk.

Spring is life, a barefoot romp, all pirouettes and ronds de jambe through chartreuse grass and soft, fresh mud.

Summer treads too lightly — sandals along a beach, tracks soon wiped clean by the trailing tide. Silent, calm, and consistent.

Autumn clomps: through leaves and sticks in hiking boots, loose gravel scattering, a hearty give-and-take with the earth.

But winter. Winter is a shuffling stagger, bent into a harsh gale, clinging to equilibrium. A prisoner’s gait, condemned, pained, proud. Craving contact. Each step could start the slip. Every stride presages the fall.

–sm


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Comments

2 Comments to “One Hundred Words (38)”

  1. David on December 16th, 2008 9:15 am

    Man, I wish I’d said that.

  2. Connie Maxon on December 16th, 2008 1:23 pm

    Did somebody fall down and go boom?

    Seriously, though. What a great poem.

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