Walking is a forgotten pastime.
The universe becomes ever faster
In its journey,
The need for serenity
And considered contemplation
Totally overlooked.
Where has all the silence gone?
I've no idea.
I don't see the need for all that commotion.
Why are all in such a hurry?
The quiet path is the one for me.
It may have been a while
Since I last experienced it
But I long for peace once more.
Here, I always find it.
These hills are like home to me,
Their warmth exudes from them
As I walk past.
I revel in the familiar sound
Of rustling leaves,
The sweet chorus of birdsong.
The aroma of this friendly breeze.
The rain is absent though,
Even though the clouds are prominent.
It must be on its way.
I can feel my feet
Being soothed by the grass,
The antidote to a busy day.
Just another mile to go,
Expectation is rising.
A hot dinner of beef, roast potatoes
And gravy awaits me.
I'm feeling a welcome anticipation
As hunger starts to take hold of me.
Just a few yards to go,
And I see my home.
The lights are on, my wife
Sat by the fire, waiting for me.
We eat, grateful and satisfied.
Now I know why I chose
The quiet road home.
(c) NZ 2009.