Walking Through Time and Colored Space

Monday Morning Musings:

“People observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and ends, but to me it’s quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations, with each passing moment.

A single hour can consist of thousands of different colors.”

–Markus Zusak, The Book Thief


Valley Green Inn

Valley Green Inn

A lunch date at a favored place

where time both moves and pauses, still—


(our hearts, across, but not apart.

He says, “Look at that horse and cart.”)

Valley Green Inn

We eat and talk, at a leisurely pace

we walk through sun and autumn chill

past greens and blues and shadowed grey

where rival geese gangs gather like Jets and Sharks


(honks and echoes through the park)


and pops of red and golden leaves gently sway

in the breeze that sparks


more conversation–

punctuated by loud fowl annotations.


All the colors of the day, all the light that bends

as life begins and as it ends


what do we see—

no, really look, stare


focus on a tree,

at all the colors there

October, National Park, NJ

the hues of yesterday tread

on tomorrow–but see today.


And so, we do,

and watch it slowly fade away


to the bright humming moon in the indigo blue

who sends our dreams out on their way.




Another walk, I see AMOR, bright red

and nearby, a yellow flower

then a memorial to survivors and six million dead

murdered by those came to power

while others stood by.

(Not humanity’s finest hour.)


I see fountains and birds

and buildings and sky–

but what are the words

to offer, when I wonder why


the hate—then comes another shooter

thoughts and prayers do not suffice


against the looters and wannabe storm troopers–

how many more must be sacrificed?


What of memorials then, and statues of love

when the haters make no amends


and the peace dove

seems to fly a route that bends


and sways precariously

while the refugees flee–


So, we gather together, family and friends

find joy in cats and pizza, hold close hope—

FullSizeRender 653

look for the helpers, the lights in the crack

look for love, and those who have your back


because who knows when something wicked this way comes

and if only we could be warned by pricking of the thumbs


and if evil only came in theatrical play

wouldn’t earth be a wonderful place to stay?



We walk again, view art on the walls

pops of color on fall’s gloomy streets

FullSizeRender 656

discuss stories and recall

this and that, before we take our seats


to see a play about after the apocalypse

a ragtag group that performs The Simpsons.

they recount episodes, buy lines for scripts

try to come to grips, that they’re the ones


who are left. The play continues, years pass

and a mythology forms, but has love won?


Certainly, the need to tell stories is ageless, ancient

words, rhythm, art, song—is eternal


and so is the need to make a statement

about our own times–so it comes full circle.


We discuss the play over cheese and wine

then walk to the train to return to our home


Orange wine at Tria

feeling fortunate that we are fine–

though my thoughts roam


to those who have lost people they cherish

killed by hate and those who support it


how do we make it perish,

make the world emit


love, kindness, joy,

and hate outwit–


so, a ploy–

I sleep and dream–


see time rippling in a wave

flowing in an endless eternal sea


colored by infinite hues, and thoughts we save

ride through all space, simply waiting to be


born again with a bang.

Dreams of a thousand colors. Think if. Maybe. Stay.


Sunrise, National Park, NJ


Even though this is more than one walk, I’m also linking this to Robin’s Walktober. I hope that’s OK, Robin.

I. We had lunch at the Valley Green Inn, then walked along Forbidden Drive.  II. I walked through the Philadelphia Holocaust Memorial Plaza (also written about here) and along the Parkway in Philadelphia. III. We walked around before and after seeing Mr. Burns, A Post-Electric Play at the Wilma Theater.


32 thoughts on “Walking Through Time and Colored Space

  1. Noticing, observing, weaving – your musings are marvellous Merril thank you. Observing also the horror around the world, more especially in Pittsburgh right now. And in among it all, Amor …

  2. I don’t remember reading these lines about color in The Book Thief. Thank you for using it as the scaffolding for your reminisces this weekend.

    The house wall mural is extraordinary!

    • Thank you, Marian. I think The Book Thief quotation is from the first chapter.
      I’m glad you liked the mural. The one with the garden? I never noticed it before. There are so many murals all over the city. And the one with the girl is about the power of reading. I discovered it while walking around near where my mom lives.

  3. While I can I’ll pause on this line: “where rival geese gangs gather like Jets and Sharks.” I love this line, the alliteration, the image of geese as Jets and Sharks … it gave me goosebumps (pun intended). As for the rest of your lovely poem, well, it’s lovely. I guess I just said that. I feel I’m walking along side you, reading your thoughts and nodding in agreement, finding joy in the colors and sadness for those taken from us.

  4. It’s perfectly okay, Merril. I’m glad you joined in and we got three walks for the price (so to speak) of one. 🙂

    This made me laugh out loud: “punctuated by loud fowl annotations.” As if the birds were using foul/fowl language.

    Once again, your musings are thoughtful and beautiful with hints (maybe more than hints) of hope.

  5. I can feel autumn in your words. And the melancholy that seems to be the background to our world right now. How to balance what is given and what is taken away…(K)

  6. If only evil did exist in theater, yes, I agree, dear Merril… and yet, here we are living in a circus led by a fool! But I dove into the blue sea and voted early yesterday — I hope many will, too. xo

    • Thank you, dear Rose. I will definitely vote, but I’ll wait till the day of. I don’t know which is better in terms of votes counting, but I kind of like the ritual of going to the voting booth to cast my vote (on electronic machines that hopefully won’t be hacked).

  7. This was full of such a range of emotions and connections, Merril. I like the beauty in art and the wake up call of remembering the worst of the worst (Holocaust) in the Tree. I liked the photos of you and your husband and the pretty mural on a lovely older building very much.

  8. Pingback: Walktober 2018 – breezes at dawn

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