the scallop shell
was still swinging
from the side of
my backpack as
I walked from home
to our coffee
shop to drop off
cookies and write
still a pilgrim
I suppose this time
in my own town
broken sidewalks
instead of trails
sites made sacred
by our stacks of
stones and stories
the best trails go
in a circle
beginning and
ending with each
other on the way
to where we’ve been
with time to stop
to drink and dream
Peace,
Milton
Beautiful!