We walk along the stop banks
Our aging limbs to stretch;
Sometimes a wind upon our backs
Assists us on our quest.
A new world unfolds before us
As others use this space;
The dogs and their owners
Their friendship to embrace.
As we encounter other strollers,
A greeting is exchanged;
It matters not we’re strangers,
And cannot be explained.
A crowd of snow white seabirds
Congregate on the field below;
Do they have a form of words
For their messages to flow?
The occasional hardy cyclist
Rings his cycle’s bell;
Like some competing finalist
Or a bat out of hell.
When we have reached our destination
We feel another day has passed;
When we could feel elation
That our energy did last.