I have made a commitment in my mind to walk to the library two or three times a week (see how firm such things are for me already). This morning I took my first journey of the “Summer” (Spring still a technicality).
I started with an old headphone radio on my head, hoping that perhaps I could get more than the Tejano station I seemed limited to inside the house. Before I left the complex, I was sorry I added it to everything I carried. Maybe Royse City is a dead zone for music.
Better it is to enjoy the music of street anyway. Yet as I walked, some phrases from the new album by The Choir mingled with the tones of passing cars as I crossed under I-30. Though I’ve been walking a great deal more lately, I was already tired by the time I hit residential streets again.
Once inside, I tried to block out the sounds of conversations as I found a couple of books of poetry and sat to browse them, hoping for inspiration or at least an idea. Nothing came, but I did read some fine poems by William Everson.
wiping away sweat
the water fountain humming
lower than old hens