I love that you extended the poem as a response. There is so much we can only see in hindsight. Too much lives only through recall. The wisdom to preserve to stop before the tipping point, before the road taken has led us past all possible return. I stood on a hilltop recently and looked across a valley from an ancient temple. The flat-topped hills were once the villages, now the valley are cluttered and the air, even in this remote place clogged with exhaust and fume. So much hurry to get there and so little thought to the cost of it all. And for what? Ah, time for a walk now. Happy new year, this time of passage and of turning.



Writer, walker, poet, educator. Commercial fisherman, builder, donut maker, organic grower. Boston, U. City, Maine, South Africa, Madrid.

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