An Autumn Walk

One step.                                                                                                                                                             Forward moving but immersed –
a single moment.
Time is present: meaningless.
The critic tries to scream but no sound is registered.
It tries to wander but is instead held fast
to a crunch of leaves underfoot
and the stride, rhythmic. Soothing even.
Air passes along skin – a delicious shiver –
perhaps like one never felt before
or never noticed in such exquisite detail.
There is pain, sure, but it’s tolerated.
Accepted even.
The path is long but seen; all it’s ever asked for
if it could ask.
The destination looms and the critic laughs, a sound indistinguishable
from the surroundings. The determination
to be present
still rests on newly fallen leaves.

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