Walk in the Park

Took a long needed walk in the town park.

I think I found a nice little retreat to run to when I get restless. I've been in the area once but didn't have the opportunity to look at it all. It makes me wonder how many people have had the chance to stroll down the small paved paths next to the Calfkiller, or how many people know about them. Some kids ride their bikes through here but it's rare when they are seen. The paved roads more than likely carry some memory from those who have set their feet upon the cracking pavement. Very little graffiti is spread through the path: the usual names of those brave enough to put their whole names, the lovers (of course) are a necessity to any wooded path, and then there are the ones who gain personal pride and glory with the white 'F**k you's decorating the black asphalt, which doesn't have a choice but to carry the brands of others' spray paint perversions.
About this time of year I am lucky to stroll through the fallen leaves and breathe in the scent of summer ever so subtly mingling with the fall.
For the first time in a long time I enjoyed walking next to the rarely still Clafkiller and feeding my eyes with the sight of the young green saplings dangling their beautiful green leaves mockingly over the hundreds of rusty brown ones. Seeing the immobile waters of the river made me stop and stare at its frozen beauty. I was somewhat honored that the river gave me a not so often chance to see her secrets she hides at the bottom. Solemnly I picked up a triangular shaped rock. It wasn't a rock the nature intended to make but one from a quarry that was put there to add a touch of the outside world to this beaten paved road. . I felt a touch of remorse at the thought of throwing the rock into the cold depths of the river; all i knew or could have known was that the rock almost felt like it didn't want to go there. There then I remembered that Mother Nature didn't make the rock in a manner of speaking. So at the moment I let the River decide.
I valued her stillness, but I valued her constant flow more. I tossed the rock into her grasping waters and watched as she wavered in the disturbance. Mentally I thanked the River for showing me something that few do witness. Somewhat satisfied, I kept my pace on the road while staring at the cracks.
My heart felt joy and sadness at the broken asphalt. Joy came from thoughts that Mother Earth is constantly changing and no matter what man does, she changes as she should. Sadness came from the thoughts of the change itself.
Only for a moment can you enjoy her beauty, but soon she changes as she wills. Change brings adaptation to those around it and a longing to keep that beauty and see it again. But, nevertheless; she always has a new beauty to show us. I am grateful to have sight that I may see her subtle yet sublime gifts for the world to see; like the view of the algae covered rocks at the River's bottom, and the feather that the small red bird placed at my feet.
Nothing should keep her locked away from longing eyes.
As I left my place of temporary solitude, she plays her music of the night for those willing to listen. Maybe she laid the urge upon me to look back at the River one more time. Obligingly, I witnessed that in her quiet stillness she took it upon herself to flow once more and show me by carrying fallen leaves to a new resting spot.

Author's Note

Please ignore any spelling or grammar. Hasn't been edited yet.

Reviews

[A. Amos]

Adore your writing simply elegant and neatly crafted

[Stanley King]

WOW, what an excellent piece with truth, heart and soul in every word! I'm in spencer by the way lol Nice to meet you