The Walk

THE WALK

by Robin Shwedo

©: Robin Shwedo, 1985



We went for a walk

at his insistence.

I hesitated;

his shoes still damp.

(Amazing how many puddles

have magic magnets

that draw little feet to them.)



I carried him to the corner stop sign,

all forty-plus wiggly pounds.

We tested the breeze.

Nothing happening, we headed back.

"Let me down," was the demand.

"Me run."

So, down he went,

and,

pell-mell,

all his might,

ran to the edge of our yard.

Then, mincey-run-steps on the

stones on the driveway,

and finally, full-tilt ahead

to the sidewalk

in front of the house.

"I beat 'ou!" he sings screechily,

happily hopping,

hands clapping.



We go inside to play.



From my collection titled Love, Feelings and the Seasons of Life.