Walking to Work

Walking to work all alone

With the cool breeze in my face

I hear squirrels skittering down trees

Scraping the bark and knocking down leaves.

I hear birds singing above me.

Perhaps they can speak to the squirrels, I think.

Perhaps they know the squirrels language

And they talk of urgent business to them.

Golden and brown leaves litter

The pale gray sidewalk I walk on.

The leaves sometimes clack, click,

As they tumble in the gentle wind.

As I draw nearer to my destination

I see a small green field

Where the pixies, disguised as dragonflies,

Dance around in the sunlight.

Walking back from work I feel

The heat of the sun baking me

I take brief stops in the trees’ shade

And then continue walking.

When I make back to my small abode

I finally pick up a book and relax

For the stresses of work can now die peacefully

As the fairytale I read comes alive.