Don’t Set Life’s Wanderings Down in Concrete

Tread lightly and do no harm

Image: Jenny Hogg — A Bum on a Beach

The liquid sunlight mixes with the morning mist above the hills along the Mendocino coastline. Inexhaustible waves brought new objects for a tail-wagging Ragged and an ageing Reckless to run with; paw prints quickly erased by the incoming tide this early morning.

It makes me think about my footprints, relieved they were never set down in concrete. I’d be ashamed to look back and see all those places left, the loves once voiced and the goodbyes never spoken.

Now, sitting on this rock, Reckless panting at my feet, belly wet with salt water, tail limp and no longer brushing the sand, we watch a youthful Ragged…run…run…run.

I am completely at peace within myself. No more the horror of midnights, the whisperings of the celestial tide bringing me those five minutes of uncertainty. God nor gold could move me from this place, north or south.

So here I remain, the wanderer, the adventurer, the gipsy in me spent. No more inns with green doors, harbours left, or ponies ridden on the carousel.

I’m just a man walking his dogs on the shore, treading onward from all those places left.

Note: After the crap Medium has dished on a lot of us, I’ve reduced my tag list to those who are…