I walk down the path, blue sky, clouds and sun; the wind caressing my face. I have been down this way many times, before the blocks of flats existed, there was an open field and orchards, sometimes with sheep; now asphalt, angular concrete and shutters. I walk down the path, between the buildings, past manicured bushes, underfoot a light scattering of twigs and dried leaves, gently turning, rolling across where I walk, ahead, a minor incline Because this place, my home the last fifteen years, with all its turns, seasons and smiles and tears seems different today, as I recede and move away, put the final touches to the residence I had for another I walk down the path, the destination turned elsewhere; another phase, a stepping stone anew a step, a jump and gentle incline away from the old, sedimented rhythms to uncertainty, novelty, a blank page, a leaf again upon a sheaf of ups and downs and cheers and frowns As my shoes I have put on and taken off tens of thousands of times walk once more afresh up the path. Laces tied untied Many millions of metres paced, traversed The path, walked, day or night How I learnt, or not, insight in sight -- wispy, transient, curious cloud - sweep the sky, whisper loud
