Beliefnet
Daily Joys and Simple Pleasures

I am so happy to learn that the great elucidator, Billy Graham, has returned home after his stay in the hospital and his waltz with pneumonia. I wish him continued strength and solid recovery. These were my thoughts as I headed out the door to walk to the post office.

Walk rather than ride? Driving the car is a time saver. Walking is an earth-saver. “It’s not raining. I should walk. I have so much to do today, I should drive. Walk/drive/walk/drive?”
The earth and the walk won out.

After I finish feeling joyful for Rev. Graham’s good news, I reflect on something I wrote a few months ago. WE HAVE TO MOVE OVER A LITTLE TO MAKE ROOM ON THE ROAD FOR POETRY.

I start looking around. I slow my pace. There’s my favorite neighborhood dog. His stalwart red nose peeks out from his rain-proof dog igloo. “How civil,” I muse. “He keeps to himself to the civil hour of lunch.” A glance to my left informs my sight. Something I zoom by all the time…an overgrown garden. It just looks messy when I’m zooming by in a car. On foot, with eyes open, it looks like a promise trying to keep itself. A tilting gate, swung slightly open. A tentative invitation. An overgrown path leading to little hide-away spots.
Who imagined this and first made it? How did it get left behind? Who wanders in the wonder now?

“Wouldn’t you figure?” the sarcastic voice that had earlier advocated the use of the car asked at the postal counter. Today I received a 42 pound box. My postmistress is amused as I tuck my book (yes, I walk with a book) in the back of my pants…we laugh. “If the t.v. cops can put a gun there, I can probably manage a book!”

I shoulder the box and head home. As I near the hill climb to my home, my thoughts are not on the poetry around me but rather my posture appropriately supporting this weight.

A driver whoooshes past me, turns around and pulls alongside me. I’ve never seen her before and our introduction confirms that we’ve never met. “That looks mighty heavy, do you want a lift?”

There’s the poetry. The big dog in the back is eager for my company and I am happy for the kindness of a stranger. As I let myself into my home I smile, realizing I moved over and made room on the road for poetry.

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