What a gift to walk today
‘Midst falling leaves, by river’s run.
To hear the birds and crickets sing,
Walk under trees in dappled sun.
I do not know this wild wood-land,
Suburban-bred, not woodsman’s child.
Yet, not so wild as it could be;
The asphalt makes the trail seem mild.
Some leaves that fell, so many pressed
By feet and wheels, a thousand times,
As if the leaves on trail embossed,
Of passing life to be the signs.
And mild, too, the weath’r today;
It draws the people out to play
They walk, they talk, they bike, they run.
A peaceful time; most smile and wave.
In wilder places I have been,
But urban trails, they make me smile.
Oasis in a crowded world,
A piece of heaven for a while.
clarakatalin 
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