Old Shoes

Old shoes
Have paid their dues
They have truly walked the walk,
Stories, tales and adventures tell
If their tongues could only talk.

Heals down
They’ve covered ground
Toes pointed to the west,
Hilltops climbed and wooded trails
And now they are at rest.

Newly shod
On paths un-trod
The road yet to be taken,
Somewhere round a pleasant bend
The spirit re-awakens.

Order in Disorder

There is order in disorder,
So not to worry about meaning…
It will find us.

I have selected a random (really?) location,
Trail side on rocks
Once cast up
Then worn down.

A very tiny spider
Walks a single invisible strand
Back and forth
It is very alive.

Lunching with the trees
That dropped their leaves and waited
Patiently
For my arrival.