Five thirty, still dark
First light is another thirty minutes.
Then it’s out the door.
My morning walk
I love this time of day
I love what the walk does for me.
It’s down the street,
Past the houses of my childhood
All sleeping as I step by.
Under the railway, a coal train roars by overhead
Then along to the highway
The Bowling Club’s illuminated sign
tells time, temperature and the weekend’s entertainment.
Down past the primary school
Cleaner’s working heads down bums up
preparing for the days teaching and learning.
The railway bridge steps tax me.
I greet Maggie with her white Labrador
The healthiest dog I see each morning.
Then the long walk up the hill through the park
While a thousand birds chorus the morning.
I reach the train station
Workers lining up for the 6.45.
Their faces betray their moods
Some excited, most resigned to the day.
I stride away from that scenario
My life is pretty much my own now.
I make it to the shops
The paper shop its usual busy self,
The coffee shop about to open
The bakery thriving this early.
Then it’s back towards home
I greet Fay who walks every morning
A retired lady returns my pleasantries.
As I draw near home my body tells me
You have walked a fair distance
Time to rest, recover.
It doesn’t get any easier I tell myself
Just some mornings are easier than others.
I turn into my street
Saying hello to the lady with three arms.*
At home I sit for a while
Water bottle in hand
I meander through my garden
Pull out a weed or two
Cut a rose for the kitchen.
This time of day is mine
Its what I love to do.