Seconds Pass

So busy that art gets left behind...no time or energy to paint. So busy that writing simple things - like this - gets left out of the day.

So: a simple walk in a state park surrounding a river on a perfect Fall November day when the sky is achingly clear and the temperature hovers in the upper 60’s and an easy breeze carries healing scents all around ya.

Walking with my gal and my head clears. Stepping along over a stagecoach path that once stretched from Cincinnati to Pittsburgh. Many old ghosts simmering nearby.

I climb up a slight hill to hide behind an ancient fallen rock formation whose top is a fertile garden for all sorts of growing things. I’m there to pee, as other hikers don’t really need to be my audience. I look down upon a world of leaves, grasses, sticks and other assorted life forms. In my thoughts I hear the scientist speaking on NPR about theories suggesting that our universe is like a bubble in an infinite stretch of other bubbles. The endless relativity of large and small. These lovely leaves look up at me. Seconds pass. Then I walk away.