Stepping on the dry, dirt road

Stepping on the dry, dirt road

It began on dry dirt
It happens sometimes to me
It is unique to summer time
To hot, dry, breezy summer days

It starts with a dusty road, or perhaps a tree

Why it is that summer’s lazy mood
Over dry, pebbly dirt or fields mowed
With distant leaves brushing playfully about
Brings it to being, into astonishing bloom
I do not know

Still, I looked up from that dry and sandy road
And I caught sight of one of those dancing trees
Swaying in the wind through air thick with heat
Then came the moment, the one that happens
Slowly, firmly, halting my being

More than a moment, it is a whispering call
To be heard it stops time like a picture
Though, it is yet greater still
For this call transcends distance as well
Making it not simply stillness, but Now

There, like an irresistible unknowing
It was there, appearing before me
As I was standing on that dusty road
And staring at that tree
It was dry, hot, and breezy, the magical three

I stopped, right there, going no more
While my spirit continued outward through it
To a time and a place of my youth
When I also stood timelessly still
Just like I was Now

I wanted to reach out and touch
That age and place long past, so far
And wondered if back then I had
Unsuspectingly reached forward to Now
For a moment, it was one life, eternal

Timid, the one with me looked curiously
Suggesting maybe we should move on
And this I thought, too
For transcendence does not mean
That time no longer has its meaningful space

It is usually no use explaining
The only thing one can do
Is to simply step forward on the dirt
Entering time, again, yet again
But knowing, oh knowing, that heaven is there

~ Walter Adams, (c) 2010, composed in memory of my childhood friends, especially those who have passed on.

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