Rambler (Poetry)

i m Phyl Jackson

I have visions of you walking —
                                        always walking
purposeful along your highland road
stout-shoed towards a wide and clear horizon
that scenic route some ancient hiker strode.

Wrapped warm against perversities of weather
come rain or shine, you follow the old track
pressing on, Time’s mossy milestones distant
the place you seek unmarked on any map.

Untiring, fit and strong, your rhythmic rambles
a dot in that far landscape passing through
veils of mist — you’re walking, always walking
remembered hills ...
                                        then off into the blue.