THE SAME PATH

 I walk the same route every morning…from this path I do not stray

because I have so many friends to greet whom I’ve met along the way.

There are the trees that tower to the sky…many, I’m sure, older than me

There’s the crickets and the owls and a host of other animals I hear but do not see.

There are the shifting clouds that are always moving 

from right to left or left to right

There are the flowers waiting for me…the ones that only bloom at night.

There are the toads and the rabbits who dart in and out of the shadows of the moon

Who either stand in one place hiding…or hop away too soon.

There are the churches with their marquis lit

with messages for the mind

There are the oranges painted by a friend

he graciously has left behind.

There are the old folks who live on the corner

the early morning enclave

who, as I round the corner

always smile and wave

There’s the homeless lady who never speaks

but will occasionally smirk

There are the silent streets of a city asleep

there’s the bookstore where I work.

There are the stars that guide me on this walk,

the moon with her occasional grin

There are the silent messages I send to my family

and release upon the wind.

I love this path I’ve chosen

love the friends I greet as on this path I roam

and I love the way this same path

always leads me home.