Crossroads

Standing at the crossroads,
Becoming one with the idea
Of directional changes,
Leaps of faith,
Dust in my nostrils,
Tears in my eyes,
Foundering in my first step
In the new direction,
Walking slowly away
From the tired paths,
Hoping, daring to believe,
This one will be it.

Thoughts

Rambling through a wilderness
Of tangles and brambles,
I have thoughts of people,
Places, events and tempests.
They flow like a river in my mind.
Dashed on rocks, some scatter.
Others get caught in a backwater eddy,
Recurring intrusively from time to time.
I let go a lot of other ones,
Flowing out to the metaphysical sea
In a great, fan shaped swath of discoloration.
The backwater thoughts sometimes
Get churned into dirty foam,
Laying in wait on the still surface,
Popping in the heat of midday sun.

Walking the Cat

We walk to the neighbors, my son and I,
It is dark out, but we have an obligation.
We are to feed their cats, and take in the mail.
Doesn't really matter what time of day we do it.
As we go in the silent darkness,
A shadow moves in and out of the light.
We both stop, trying to figure out which cat has followed.
When she goes into a shadow,
She completely disappears, becoming one with night.
Joy is her name, half wild, and half tame.
We kid around that we are taking the cat for a walk.
Light laughter in the evening.
She escorts us down the hill,
Then tirelessly takes us back home,
And I realize that I have just been taken for a walk.
By the cat.