Music. Listening as my feet are on the pavement,
Avoiding small rocks, and cracks in the street
Trying to see past the cars, and the wind, and the
Leaves that line the walk, with music in my ears
Playing the songs, no my songs, one by one, as I walk.
The wind is extra cool, no its cold, across my face, and
This sweatshirt, and sweatpants cut out some of the
Coolness, as they sing in my head, beautiful songs
Some of them classic in tone, others classic for being
The rest in their own flush way, music to walk too today.
Air beats in from the lake, bringing goose-flesh to the neck
While upward steps, both long and challenging, beat down
The legs, and muscles made by this beating have strengthened
And even though no one cares to look, the legs have grown
Strenuous in their tender job of carrying this body along.
But the music, the anthems of song, the generous feelings
The women who take everything from man and make him cry
The bottle, the drive, the choices, all add up, and the singers
Each one driving the sympathies of days past, and of nights spent late
In the way only they can, no it must be could; for they all now are gone.
Ralph Peck
Photograph by Marla Bolton
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