Winter Baby

They say that the long and winding road leads to your door.Or, should you be going the other way, which is generally the way to start a walk, walking out that door, say, on a fine evening between four and six, one step after another, the road goes ever on and on, across the river and into the trees, through the Pathfinder’s sea of prairies and Scheherazade’s ocean of stories, skirting along Highway 61, all the way to No. 7 Eccles St., Ithaka, and its rooted bed — a Penelope for your thoughts, Leopold — with a side path to the Lonely Mountain and its soft underbelly of Smaug, or, taking the wrong turn, bobbing upon a coffin of wood that’s all that left of the old world.
Solvitur ambulando, said Augustine of Hippo; it is solved by walking. Meditation, exploration, transportation. You can do it by yourself…