Why I Love a Morning Walk

My most loved activity is going for a walk in the morning .Ever since I retired I got into it and I enjoy it immensely .I miss it sourly the day I am bogged down. This is my staple diet I cannot do without.

Stepping out of the gate every morning, the first one to greet me is the balmy cool breeze. Instantly it embraces me in its fold and accompanies me all the way. It lathers my body with its scented gentleness and bathes it with unseen strokes. Its fragrant freshness continues caressing me with its sweet presence. While I sleep at night it is at work. It gathers all the sweet smells emanating from the verdure around to present to me, its dear friend and admirer, at dawn.

It stays totally in sync with me. It writes my thoughts in my head long before I ink them on paper. It loosens the knots in my grey cells, calms me and prepares me for the day .It buckles me up to face the challenges. It goads me to introspect and contemplate. It wants me to learn each day and be wise.

I prefer to walk alone. I have so many conversations to do. The leaves, buds, flowers, hanging seed pods and swaying branches talk to me when I pass by them. Sometimes they pour their angst out against the humans for being indifferent and callous. I keep listening like a soul mate and that satisfies them. They understand and don’t press for an answer.

When I am out early I observe a birds’ meet. Before embarking on their respective hunt for grub they hold an assembly. Perched on the twigs of a richly leafed tree they say hello to each other in the form of no holds barred crescendo of chirping, twittering, squeaking and many unnamed sounds. It is their way of welcoming the day together and displaying solidarity. Suddenly they come out in a flourish and fly away hither and thither but not without acknowledging my presence by tweeting over my head.

My morning walk is on a straight road with no turns and bumps which surprisingly is least trodden. On one side it is lined with trees. Their luxuriant branches cover one third of the road like a canopy. While I stroll under this umbrella, I instinctively finger the leaves above. .At times the touch is smooth and soft and at other times rough and abrasive like life itself. The wind fans my hair, I yawn and feel drowsy, strength leaving my legs and I lose myself to the intoxication.