A Walk in the Park

Four zero four five twelfth avenue south
Minneapolis, Minnesota, five five four zero seven
Bancroft.
Powderhorn.
Pause.
From Chicago to Cedar, from thirty eighth to fourty second.
Sixty four hundred west one o fifth street Bloomington, Minnesota, five five four three eight.
Hyland Park Reserve.
The bike shop next to Buster's, on the Cross Check you've built with a brown leather saddle. The one that needs fixing but you can't find the tool.
Tucson, Phoenix, Scottsdale, Prescott. The Gelato Spot and Star Pass at night. Ed's shop on Whiskey and The Raven 'round the corner. On a trail outside Williams where your grandfather lived.
This is where you live on this world you call Earth. This is where you are until you are not.

You have one more moment, a minute, an hour, or year. The rest of your life to enjoy and to share.
Care for your neighbors, the stranger, your pals. Love your family and lead them to love others too.
Be strong, be courageous, be kind and fair. Love your wife. Love your wife. Don't forget to love your wife.

Decide what is right and do it and be sure to rest even when you can't.

This is what you have to do, what you have to receive and to keep and to pass along.

Forgive. Forget.  Create, take a walk, see the stars.  And when you can't see them shining through the lights of the city, remember that they're real and that they speak.  That they silently, profoundly say.

Tell a friend, tell the world. Write it on your blog and carve it in your heart, though it's already there showing faintly through the dust of experience, of providing, and of so many other things.

Hear this. Know this. It is good.