Beach walk

Floating free from the restrains
That wall our daily lives
A stranger, who would not hold out a hand
Might pass without comment.

Or we could choose to acknowledge,
Perhaps go further,
Insist that he engage,
For he is essentially impartial.

He will not have experienced
Your frown or the way your body leans.
He cannot recognize your history,
Know of your failures, or triumphs.

This may be a moment of extravagant potential,
A time to try on new clothes
That lay hidden in a dusty closet,
Or fearing rejection, move quietly away.

It could have been Emerson’s effulgent morning,
Dry, clear , except for scattered, innocuous clouds.
Foot traffic on the beach walk is light.
Rosie and I followed our accustomed path.

A woman, old enough to need the cane
Held across her chest as we greeted each other.
“I hope you are not going to hit me”
I smiled to this stranger.

“Not if your good” she responded.
“I’ve not hit my dog today” I countered.
“Do your plans include beating her later?”
“I’ve no plans for today.”

We parted without past or future,
Without knowledge of each other
Beyond a recognition that we shared humor,
An altogether permanent comprehension.

For that moment the universe offered a gentle touch.
I was tempted to call the day “good”
And start back to home.
It’s hard to improve on 100%.