Ambling Along

By Tom (

Walking along music in my ears
Perlman playing Vivaldi, a violin concerto
looked up and I will be dang
a doe deer was foraging on the
sidewalk that leads from Central high to McCormick Jr. High

“Morning Miz Doe Deer, how you be today,”
I asked in a mellow voice, figuring she would take off.
She raised her head, looked at me,
then went back to browsing.

The NE sky was all aglow, golden clouds
around the corona
but oh the pink skies all about
yet there was a lot of open sky.

I just kept walking and she continued her browsing,
I was all smiles.
Got down to a small pond and lo and behold
there was momma and poppa duck with
four small ducklings gracefully swimming.

Under Yellowstone and the bright sun
with the golden glow
Rachmaninoff being played by Van Cliburn,
floated along taking giant strides

A touch of fall in the air
that special feel one gets
this time of year
ah, twas a great day.

It is August in Tennessee

By Phyllis Ann (

It is August in Tennessee, with record breaking heat.
It will be a very long time before there will be any snow or sleet.

They black-topped our street the other day.
Sticky, hot asphalt the men did lay.

It is a miracle they didn't have a heat stroke doing that work,
But they got out there and their duty did not shirk.

Traffic heavy going to and fro from town on this another hot day.
People are shopping regardless of the weather or economy, what can I say?

Ambling in the Neighborhood

By Mercedes (

The good thing about not having a car is you are forced to walk. This time of year I even bypass the bus and walk down to the market and to the doctor. You can do that here. Tomorrow we will have a high of 76 and a low of 56, unlike Arizona with a low of 82 and a high of 110 tomorrow. Or back there in Tennessee...see above.

My neighborhood is not urban nor country but somewhere in between. There are no curbs or sidewalks. The lots are roomy. The owners may landscape or not, either way it is interesting.

Wild things grow along the roadside and the poppies had closed up for the evening as I headed out earlier about 8 o'clock.

As I walked along noticing this and that and as the brace of beagles up ahead came to the fence stuck their heads through the boards and brayed at me in unison, I remembered Tom's post. "I am ambling along right now," I thought, "I can 'contributate'."

About a year ago there appeared a new concrete patio behind a corner house about one half mile away. Then a new wood fence with a gate wide enough for an automobile. "Oooo," thought I, "A remodel, I can watch the progress on my walks." The next development surprised but did not offend me, since I do not live across the street from this house, but a good half mile away. They had painted the house day-glow green, a bright stomach churning chartreuse. What in the world? A primer maybe? But chartreuse! Days and weeks and months passed but the actrocity remained. Until Tuesday, as I approached from a different direction, and was relieved, not for myself but for the nearby neighbors, that the house was now an earthy mud brown color, except for the garage doors, a sickening reminder of... what...temporary insanity?

Another corner house I pass regularly has suet and bird feeders hung about the yard. The man of the house recently added a wood wheelchair ramp to the front porch. Is a parent coming to live, maybe his wife needs it or maybe he is just planning ahead. I wonder as I walk about the people who live inside, who they are and what they do. Do they have hobbies? What is their story?

On my walks I note the life cycle of trees and plants. I remember examining the dogwood tree down the block beginning early this year when the first mini-me dark green baby blooms sprouted. I watched and waited and they turned pale yellow and finally white blossoming brightly in the shadow of the evergreen firs around them.

There is the wide yard of the couple whom I rarely see outside but have decided, because of the orderly neatness of their property, are happy people. About their tree I have been wavering between Crab Apple and Hawthorne for about three years now, but finally, by the shape of the leaves have decided...the tree is a Crab Apple. I have half a mind to walk up to the door one of these days and demand to know for sure.

These are a few of my 'amblin' in the neighborhood memories.

August Morning

By Norma (

The road is rose;
The skies, windows,
Bricks and rocks - rose;
Roses and all earth - rose.

For it is a Texas dawn,
A hot, restless old day gone,
Of wettened humid heat
With hum and beat of coolers.

Thank you Franklin and Edison,
And all who staved searing noons,
'Til fall yields its life to ice and illness,
Dawns and dusks allow us rose.


By Cottage Lady (

Walking early on a summer morning
physically present in one space,
while my mind wanders to another.

I walk up the broad Main Street
of Keene, New Hampshire,
lined with trees and summer flowers
in full bloom, a colorful profusion of
impatiens, petunias, and marigolds.

The air laced with the aroma
of brewing coffee and freshly baked pastries,
early risers and dog walkers dressed
in tee shirts, shorts and sandals
stroll the boulevard.

A few benches on Railroad Square
are occupied by the usual suspects,
the Gazebo is empty, a few souls filing
into the Church with the distinctive tall white spire
at the head of the Square.

I walk up Court Street to the Wright Estate,
seeing the brick and clapboard buildings,
the paved circular paths we used to walk time and time again,
the manicured lawns, the sprinklers going,
the small patios, upstairs and down,
the open garage where he would sit in his wheelchair
sipping coffee, watching the day come to life.

I recall the occasional visit to the Ashuelot Park
where we used to wander by the River
on Sunday mornings with coffee and his favorite onion bagels,
or perchance, a stroll up Court Street, his wheelchair beside me,
taking the turn to the Stone Arch Bridge
watching the river go by under shade trees,
where I would sometimes sit on his lap
and we would wordlessly hug, a place
I am convinced is haunted by our spirits still.

I continue walking but somewhere entirely
other than a Greenway in Wyoming, until
I find I have made it home with no bother,
acutely aware of the mind’s ability to be elsewhere.

Ambling on Wheels

By Sharon (

I cannot amble by foot at all
Just a few paces can I take
Even if I could walk better
Twould be too hot for goodness sake

So My ambling is on wheels
In my trusty electric chair
But still this time of year I say
Is much too hot outside in air

Sometimes my chair and I go
A snooping up and down the road
Spying on the bunnies and birds
You should listen to the birds scold

Wiley Coyote shows some morns
And Freddy Falcon calls from high
That's when Peter Cottontail hides
He knows predetors can be sly

The fig tree is almost empty
The birds have eaten all it's fruit
This morning walking down the street
Was a strange Appearing old Coot

He waved at me and me at him
And he kept going on his way
Never have I seen him before
Might not see him another day

My neighbor from across the road
Was taking her children to school
This afternoon perhaps I shall
Take a dip in our wading pool

Summer Sidewalk

By Marilyn (

fresh gray surface,
trowled and smooth;
then a date,

waves of heat,
walkers' feet;
fallen acorns,

on and on, then shade,
a canopy of leaves,


Write to a Picture 90 (several writers)

Write to a Picture 89 (several writers)

Six Words in a Poem (several writers)

Little Black Dress (several writers)

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