Home Page Image

Send me an e-mail

Purchase my eBooks

Join me on facebook



The Purse       A Time for Hope        Butterfly's Love        Perfection        The Walking Stick

Tiny Angel Footprints in My Heart        Two Bears One Bear       More Poems >>

The Walking Stick

Can you imagine walking a mile or two,
With one who stops to see each little thing with you?
Where every turn brings another gasp of Ahh!
And each of the sounds and smells are singular.

A beautiful sunny day or rainy and wet,
It matters not on this walk what you get;
Whether hot or cold or soaked or sweaty,
All things received with peace - not heady.

The steeper, the slower and more chance to watch,
The little things no eye will ever catch.
All life slows for her to see a piece
Of what I believe is God’s given feast.

When the way gets really hard through briars and bog,
She’ll stop to rest her tired feet on fallen log.
But as she does, her inquiry never slows,
She’s examining a small stick stuck between her toes.

All things whether big or small, ugly or cute,
Are things of interest; and you just can’t refute
The significance of the object she is then inspecting.
It’s place in the world becomes obviously introspective.

“Come,” I say in haste, “We’ve a long ways to go today.”
She says, “Look, feel this rock!” “But, we’ll be late” I say.
“Feel how smooth and round,” she calmly returns.
And so I stop and feel and look and understand in turn.

So I’ll walk with her as long as she walks place to place.
And I’ll strive to keep up with her deliberate pace.
Wherever she goes I’ll always be there still
Just watching and wondering at her laissez faire will.

Hey! I found a stick in Paradise I hope she can use,
As a walking stick to steady her on daily muse.
I knocked off all rough edges, sanded and polished.
Yeah! Like me! The walking stick to the finish.

Max Delano Beers
Mothers Day 2006