a final finding on the walk, and what a walk would do: it takes you over the green-dammit coming-back vengeance(plural); a cold crisp snow having laden and white walled or washed and then in a barely warm push, the melt, the old winter's lap or slap or coat goes, gets gone, and you trod; not too much mucking or mulch or the smells of cows & melting hills this time, but several sights to swallow with eyes and toes enshrined and motorized, pleased to be outside, like it's some miraculous thing to exit a door, but you know, sometimes, just some days, it's a force to be recognized -- perambulation -- and all the puns and found objects, all these scurrying temporary beats, and yes, what ho -- a giant massive, a raptor gleaming, ogling for mice, high atop a top branch, and yeah, best you just shove along, leave it be, a him or a she, no matter, these will all shift on the next walking day...
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