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Tommy Randell Mar 2019
At 67 my days are filled
With poetry and a dog.
The time it takes to wake,
Shower, and walk to the beach.

I pick up pebbles, she sniffs,
As we amble along.
I set my sights on the rock
Where we usually choose to be.

I get my life has led me here
Entertained by my own cliches.
Like Kermit on his stairs,
Half way is always the best place.

The tides are set as usual,
Twice a day to remind us
There are patterns and rhythms
For comfort if needed.

There is conversation too.
The dogs shouts at me,
I throw the ball,
Dependencies are conceded.

I am no old man, of course,
Modern living is kinder
Than to our parents and All.
Indeed, there are miracles -

Extra years and health galore,
Greater chances to be wiser.
Even the choice, if I may say,
To be a little less cynical.

Sea glass is common here,
Rough polished and opaque -
A bit like me these days,
Not shiney, you might say.

But there is beauty, daily.
And reason, make no mistake -
To view life with a certain grace,
And see gold amongst the greys.
Whitby, named by the Vikings of course - White Bay - has 2 miles of gently shelving yellow sand for a beach. Caldey, my seven month Fox Red Retriever, and I go there most days any weather ...
Donna Oct 2018
Dark grey autumn sky
Brown leaves falling everywhere
Dog walking so nice
Dean came in from work and we took our three dogs over the park tis really chilly out today but what a lovely walk ***
Ottar Jan 2015
Nerves pulled taute at an alarming rate,
Sitting on the edge of too many choices, a spate,
Leading to indecision and dizziness, changed
From horizontal, too vertical, too fast, deranged

To be awake at such an hour,
As the body tries to tap into power,
But hears this " take warning early morning"
Ahead, and a head still fuzzy while scorning,

Is there really a reason to get out of bed
at 5:19?

There are chores,
There are meals to prepare,
There is reading and meditation,
There is the routine of a morning constitutional!

There is full time employ...ment.

But all of these wait in line,
As care of a friend o'mine

Comes first,
We burst,

Into the morning,
Despite weather warnings,

And on good days too,
In the early morning,

We walk the same route,
And the same distance,

We have our pace, for instance,
My two legs keep up with her four,

She is never more excited then before
We go out the door, this is not a chore,

She pulls, she stops and drop to ***,
She is content and relaxed beside me,

She repeats as often as is necessary,
It all belongs, it is her territory,

In the early morning, I will, we will
Continue to walk, each and everyday,

We will arrive at three hundred and sixty five,
Morning jaunts
Again this year, it is a joy to move and be so alive,

With her, in the early morning,
We think not on, the mornings past,
               nor, that the mornings won't last
We only think on the present, the one we share,
In the moments found only in the early morning.

While the world around us revs its engine to a roar,
All we hear are birds,  paws with toenails on pavement or
Raindrops falling and wind calling us to stay longer, and more

Where there are no cares to wear on us,
We have each other, and it is early morning.

— The End —