I could just add a cane to my grandfatherly gait as I slide one foot cautiously in front of the other, stop every few, look back, then ahead for the next set of go’s and stops I’m trying to embody the epitome of patience and match the morning walk of our eighteen-year- old dog, Gracie, no hurry nowhere to be, sniffing the news from every bush, the gossip of each tree the rumors in every stone, inhaling seconds from the minutes of the days left

I hear their going to plant lots of trees on each side of our creek’s walkway a half mile path that now delivers unrelenting heat on anyone walking after dawn and before sunset of course I’ll be an old man, well an older man, an older old man, in the years it will take the trees to link arms above the path and create this dark corridor of relief for everyone for those who don’t live here, how could you have any idea of the summer value of shade? I would happily pay

there is a parasol of shadow along the Tahquitz Creek pathway near Sunrise Way a huge mesquite has joined hands with three Palo Verde trees to create a living umbrella, here’s what I feel under it - quietude, a holy hush a sudden silence too soon I’m through, back into the harsh bright world of sunlight for some reason I never look back the memory is enough as a small reward, a tiny gift for life’s unforgivable nature