Tonight, I walked the streets of a town;
dusk had settled an hour ago,
streetlights lit a cracked sidewalk.
It was a lesson in being present;
to simply be wherever I was in that moment.
The drive-in diner smelled like summer grease.
My feet took me past the freshly churned earth
of a construction site. Smells of dirt and mulch;
the way the world would smell if it were untouched.
I stood in front of the church and found,
as I always have in the dark in front of a cross,
a peace that cannot be found any other place.
For a moment, I wonder if maybe Jesus is real after all.
I moved on; place to place, moment to moment.
I felt the sidewalk under my sneakers;
broken, uneven, hardened; bearer of memories.
So many stories have come across this place;
Flowers, purple. A tree that smells of pine.
The dut,dut,dut of fingers across a table.
A metal sign, dewy to the touch, shining silver.
Cars going forward and left and right and stopping,
softly speaking to the world; gasoline and diesel smoke.
The end of one moment is the beginning of another,
softly forming; circular.
For a short time, I was wholly present,
as I walked the streets of a small town.


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