Evening Walkers

 

I see them at dusk with their canes and their walkers,

Others with friends who are obvious talkers –

The young in a hurry, taking much larger strides,

There’s the one with a hat, who so tries to hide.

She wears glasses for Sun, too big for her face –

With the neighborhood walkers - she seems out of place.

I know a few names, of the ones who dare talk,

Though it isn’t that often - I get out for a walk.

When the sun finally sets, the forest is dark,

With eyes that don’t blink, its no walk in the park.

There are noises and rustles just off of the road

don’t be out after dark, at least so I’m told.