On Early Summer Elderwalks

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.