Monday, August 27, 2012

A Poem by Diane Webster


The walking stick measures each step
down the sidewalk counting squares,
lines, cracks crickets wiggle
into as stick and man approach
head down contemplating the tally
or watching for cement buckle
ready to trip unseeing eyes
but not him, not his walking stick
radaring the path ahead
like a pre-blind man learning
the feel of a seeing-eye stick
perhaps with eyes closed
to facilitate experience
counting days
until the real thing hits
like a light switch off
before jumping into bed
having faith the bed still
rests in the same place last seen.

Diane Webster lives and works in Colorado where she enjoys drives in the mountains and looking for wildlife to photograph. Also she tries to remain open to poetry ideas in everyday life and wants to write about what she sees. Her work has appeared in "River Poets Journal," "Old Red Kimono," "The Rainbow Rose" and other literary magazines.

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