Walking

A big October morning,

the village church-bells,

the road along the ridge,

the chestnut burr and sumach,

the hills above the bridge

with autumn colors glow.

Now we strike a steady gait,

walking towards the future,

letting past and present wait,

we push on in the sun,

Now hark! Something bids us pause...

But we keep on a walking,

'tis yet not noon-day,

the road still calls us onward,

today we do not choose to die

or to dance, but to live and walk.