Walking Man

It gets dark early this time of year in Texas. By six the sun is all but a memory. In the summer months I was rushing home so I could get in a good four miles and take Jack to the dog park so he could run and I could look at pretty women before dark. Now it's dark before I get off work, so I go a little later.

It's kind of nice... Just me and Jack, the moon and the river. In between the songs in my ipod the crunch of my shoes on the gravel.

I've upped the distances. It started last week, but as of yesterday I made it my new plan. 7.5 daily M-F, depending on social life. 7.5 on Sunday morning. I was going to up Sunday to 12, and I may yet, but not just now.

Because I walk late, no one is at the dog park when we get there, so Jack has a quick swim and we're off again. If we really hump it we can do that loop in an hour forty-five.

It seems my thoughts run a little faster in the dark too. I suppose because there's less visual input. That's both good and bad. I dream less because my brain processes more crap, but I remember thoughts and memories now whereas the dreams would fade. It'll work out eventually I'm sure.

Moving in silent desperation

Keeping an eye on the holy land

A hypothetical destination

Say, who is this walking man?

Well, the leaves have come to turning

And the goose has gone to fly

And bridges are for buning

So dont you let that yearning

Pass you by

Walking man, walking man walks

Well, any other man stops and talks

But the walking man walks

Well the frost is on the pumpkin

And the hay is in the barn

An pappy's come to rambling on

Stumbling around drunk

Down on the farm

And the walking man walks

Doesn't know nothing at all

Any other man stops and talks

But the walking man walks on by

Walk on by

Most everybody's got seed to sow

It ain't always easy for a weed to grow, oh no

So he don't hoe the row for no one

Oh for sure he's always missing

And something is never quite right

Ah, but who would want to listen to you

Kissing his existence good night

Walking man walk on by my door

Well, any other man stops and talks

But not the walking man

He's the walking man

Born to walk

Walk on walking man

Well now, would he have wings to fly

Would he be free

Golden wings against the sky

Walking man, walk on by

So long, walking man, so long

-James Taylor