I tried to walk it off
(instead of keeping me in)
heading afoot toward the lagoon
(a Tuesday at noon)
For peace sake,
with the marine layer pushed back
convinced, I headed onshore
(at times against the salty breeze)
Attacking it sideways
and I knew my grandfather would have said
Invictus-perhaps
(I plod on)
Not exercising, I stood out,
with my pedestrian thoughts
(aimless wandering)
but I find sense sometimes...
At the lagoon, bright blue-green
speckled with orange
Garibaldi all along the riff-raff
Ah-the smell! Simply incredible, soulfully edible,
(through rose colored glasses)
savory and savoring the solitude...
And I did find what I was not looking for-
On cue-loudly from the rocks below
a ground squirrel stood chirping, erect,
ear piercing, his body jolting- he sung
(bellowing for none)
Happy with his little self,
a lone mammal on the precipice
squawking on a Tuesday
because he had something good to say,
in a barking beechey marmot way.
I think he said I should stop
(chip) monking-around
I heard him, loud and clear.
