Left foot. Right foot.

I walk through the world on the soles of my feet.
Left foot. Right foot. If not there yet, repeat.

Out of my driveway and over a block;
Detouring through streets with the shadiest trees
I figure on just over four miles to walk.
I'm ready to relish the tiniest breeze.

The path between houses, a trail through the woods,
The Auburn trail beckons. I enter its shade
Past daughter's old school via two neighborhoods
To tread the firm earth that the railroad men laid.

Small movement seizes my gaze at my feet
A frog moves one yard and then freezes in place
Another blackberry is ready to eat
White butterfly drunkenly flies in my face.

The last leg's uphill, it's slow going but sweet
Umbrella and cap help to temper the heat.
I practically coast the last few dozen feet:
Left foot. Right foot. If not there yet, repeat.

The house is a haven that always needs work
Our work gives life meaning and fodder for talk
Complaining is free. It's an un-ending perk
A topic for small chat along the long walk.

The leak that I fixed last year's dripping again
I'd call in the plumber, but he must be paid
I'll do what I can just one more time, and then
Next year they can deal with the muddle I made.

This is the year when the porch's damn roof
Must be fixed and fixed well, or we'll lose the whole room
Winter will come, we're not yet water-proof
We ponder our financial peril with gloom.

Solutions don't last, resolutions aren't neat
It isn't an option to shrug that we're beat
So we struggle ahead, not admitting defeat:
Left foot. Right foot. If not there yet, repeat.

The world is a house on the edge of a drop
Some party inside like tomorrow won't come
While others are nervously working up top
Trying to re-roof, for Winter will come.

We work for solutions and think we're ahead
When we've managed to budget for vittles and rent
But our loud, feckless roommates have broken their bed
And accused us of wasting the money they spent.

The going's unsure: slowly gain, quickly lose
The prizes we'd won somehow frittered away.
When we're running ahead, someone's stolen our shoes.
The progress of decades wiped out in a day

The road is uneven, the map's incomplete
And it's rare we can hitchhike or otherwise cheat.
We work through this life with our souls in our feet.

Left foot.
Right foot.
Are we there yet?

Repeat.

 .




I'm not sure if this is finished or not. Watch this space: Changes may take place silently.