Look closely at the road we go down.
Is it paved? Are there multiple lanes? Can there be intersections that are loaded with traffic, with cars signaling and angry drivers, horns honking, yelling and hands flailing the air, with temperatures inside rivaling the outside, with feelings of the anonymous ones taking the place of the ones who love us so dearly and would lay their lives down to protect us ?
Can you look and see the road that is the path that you can choose? Bring about the older car, or wagon, or cart, that would travel well, and it’s wheels squeak and it’s seat be somewhat rough. The breeze of the day, that something, that can slip across the neck and create the feeling of the heart beat, pulsing high and low, down the path.
The grass is green, luscious in its colors, more shades of green than the forty colors of Irish songs, will and do line the pathway of dirt and gravel, spots of wetness in the aisle of movement, and make the old path, the best old path, the way to find ourselves once again.
Ralph Peck
Photography by Belva Shelton
Comments