These days
The hills are best for my walks:
Steep, aerobic,
Social distancing is easy with
Deserted blocks, empty of cars.
But then. Look. An old lady sitting on her top porch step,
She lifts her hand
As I pass.
Does she know me?
I’m wearing a mask.
Six blocks up
Is The Common.
Open meadow and a few ranch homes,
Bay view. Gleaming, the sky so clean and empty.
Trees.
Along the trail a cluster of the strange giants,
Coast live oak, blue gum, dawn redwood,
Liquidambar, sycamore
Still here, dappled, twisted, sensual curves
Windblown.
I slow down and walk close to my favorite.
Alive
I lay my cheek against the massive trunk.
Juice is pulsing through
Awareness even?
Does it know?