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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2 Comments to “One Hundred Words (38)”
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Man, I wish I’d said that.
Did somebody fall down and go boom?
Seriously, though. What a great poem.