On Wednesdays I walk while my children are at CCD. I have just over an hour timeframe for my walk. And I actually enjoy the walks during the late fall and winter, even if I do have to bundle up. Last night I wore my coat and stocking cap, but didn’t need gloves. There are sections of my walk with very little light pollution, so I get to stargaze as I walk. (Faithful readers know this about me.)
Many writers, now and throughout history, walk as part of their daily routine, Stephen King, William Wordsworth, and others. They have works that were thought of and even are subjects of what they experienced on their walks. Wordsworth’s poem, “The Solitary Reaper,” comes to mind.
I spend many of my walks jotting down ideas into my note app for poems or stories. I come back to them later. But last night I had one of those moments that an event during my walk inspired an almost complete poem. I touched up the poem when I got back to the car, waiting for my daughter to be dismissed from CCD.
I decided to share it here as part of this blog post because I could talk about the genesis of an idea, but also reinforce the power of the simple moments in life. The depth our hearts can reach, even in routine moments, like my Wednesday night walks.
So, here is my poem. I hope you enjoy the moment with me.
“November Evening”
On an early November
evening walk
my companions
are the stars
bright, sharp
like the bite
of the winter wind
against my cheeks
I look down
from stargazing
Lights from cars
and street lamps
keep my steps
safe on the sidewalk
In front of me
I see
four pennies
scattered
on the concrete
as if a section
of a constellation
cracked from the cold
and fell to Earth
I stop to gather them
three heads
and one tails
Not enough for a nickel
But so much more than nothing
