The Turning at Walden

How Long Will I Keep Going….

The trees along the freeway are turning. Russet and golden yellow, burnt orange and bright red. Splattered like paint splotches on shirts of green. The solid mass of color, the chestfuls and armfuls that have cloaked the road all summer. Soon to be gone for another year.

Yet for all that is to come, this week I embrace the blue carpet I am immersed in. I glance sideways at the fringe of color, like beads strung on a garland of green. Hoping to, helping me, keeping my mind from knowing the water is clutching colder at my skin. I have learnt through many years that this is the way, of it. And of me.

I do not enjoy cold. So if I stay too long, and the screeching bullet of feeling shoots through my brain, or my fingers lose their conversation with my mind, or maybe it is just the crawling memory of icy bubbles along my spine, I start to wonder.

I wonder how long I will go this road.

But once I reach the shore again, and turn to see the vision of my tranquil mind, I am entranced. And I know it will be long, and many layers of neoprene that will bring me back.

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