Waiting to Play

This is another "walking" poem.

I had no idea, when I took up walking as a regular, daily pursuit, that it would also lead to poetry ... or at least fragments of thought that might become something akin to poetry.

But there's something about the rhythm, the cadence of walking, that seems to stimulate words and phrases.

When this happens, I try to keep them in mind until I get home ... where I used to sit at the kitchen table while I jotted them down to share with Phyllis later. Now I usually head to the computer.

In this case a scattering of leaves on the sidewalk caught my attention. It struck me that they looked like colorful, broken pieces ... how the sunlight danced across them ... and some of them seemed to come to life when a breeze came gliding through.

From there it was just a short leap to imagining that the leaves were really waiting for children to come out to play with them.

Those images turned into this little poem:

WAITING TO PLAY

The leaves lie

like broken pieces

of fine porcelain,

catching sunlight

in the autumn quiet,

stirring slightly

as a breeze comes

gliding through,

but mostly they’re

waiting for children

to come romping out

to play with them.

© 1999

(originally published in Capper's)

***

Today's word: romping

Afterthoughts ... in response to your comments:

Thank you, Sue, for stopping by and leaving a comment. I'm glad, of course, that you liked the poem ... and my photo of the wooded path. It's on one of my favorite walking routes, so you'll find me dragging it out occasionally, even when it doesn't match the poem exactly.

Thanks, Helen. I'm always delighted to provide something to jumpstart readers' thoughts ... even though I've been making my postings a little later these days, so I can sleep in and enjoy the cool mornings we've been having.

And thank you, Kelly, for that comment. Childhood memories, I've found, can, indeed, be soothing, healing. Best wishes.