Jamoke Walk

Jamoke Walk

The walk used to be so slow.

The two Jamokes with me would literally drag feet,

And rub knees,

And walk that pace that persons must have said,

“Those men up ahead. I don’t think they’re moving at all!”

A simple 2.5 mile walk would take an hour and fifteen minutes.

And they would talk.

And talk.

And talk.

And talk themselves out of breath.

Sometimes coughing would be involved.

I would walk up ahead to try to hasten the pace.

They would act like they didn’t notice or didn’t care.

But I enjoyed their company.

And then they stopped coming,

Mostly because of my insistence on leaving for the one hour drive

Before roosters even woke up.

Now I walk alone and we meet for breakfast.

Now I take even more photos.

I zero in on the bee eating breakfast, sipping nectar and nibbling pollen.

I follow the ambling of the buck as he chomps on berries and leaves.

I marvel at the finicky finches whose sporadic flight must somehow be intentional.

I hardly talk to the passersby on the trail, but our greetings are warm and chummy.

My mind wanders and I talk to myself in different voices.

I miss my pals, but I still love the walk.

A simple 2.5 mile walk still takes an hour and fifteen minutes, more or less.

I drag my feet and rub my knees.

And I just can’t shut up.