High light from a street lamp
Passing through the decorative brickwork
Casting a barrage of arrows across the path
There are patterns in the air, sketches of ideas,
random accidents, wonderful and magic;
They lie across the sidewalk, part of the random evening stroll
And in my mind during the course of the day
How bursts of words can cross the air, changing the placement
of steps, verbal cracks in the concrete, superstition and missing skills
making hopscotch of the daily walk…
How to keep a steady stride, walk side by side, be true to the path you follow?
I’m sure I could…with help.
The patterns are not so accidental after all.