Athens, GA, June, 2023
I hike through my neighborhood
in the guise of an old man
with just a hint of a gimpy hip.
Gripping a gnarled walking stick,
I’m out before the heat,
huffing up hills,
passed by young runners
and mothers rolling strollers.
They nod in my general direction
or smile past the half-seen elder.
We share the same street
but live in different worlds.
I walk as much in memory
as in the searing moment.
I slip through years,
misplace whole decades.
I zig-zag through shadows
and pause in a pool of shade.
A warm breeze sifts the mimosa
and I breathe its pink sweetness.
I scan the borders of ragged lawns
telling sumac from senna,
cats-ear from dandelion,
wild petunia from woodland phlox.
Stopped by calls of 'Hey Mr. Bob'
from a yard full of children at play,
I watch their beloved Wally
snatch a flying frisbee in stride.
As morning warms, a low drone fills
the distance. With sun high on my back,
I saunter home through the green
aroma of fresh-mown grass.
On the other side of sunset,
I watch a field full of fireflies
tracing seductive J-shaped loops
as signs of love in the failing light.
In the spell of affection, I nudge
a young snake with the tip of my stick.
The copperhead coils, then flows
off the asphalt into the night.
