Walking distils the content of thought
into somethings else. —Roshi Bob
Walking
Whisper of earth rising to meet each step.
Air brushing the edges of thought.
Light pooling in small, wandering moments.
Kind silence opening like a hidden gate.
Inward paths brightening beneath the outer ones.
Nothing hurried, nothing held.
Grace moving with me, almost unseen.
by sara Etgen-Baker ,
from Poetry Soup, 2026
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