Poem : The Cane And Red Tree Flowers

It started out with this cane
A cane now gazed upon with happiness
It was simple really
Made in a day from scrap wood lying around
For the next morning
I was having a spot of leg cancer removed
I had to have something to walk with
For the doctor would cut deep with his scalpel
Then stretch and lace my skin like a corset
Hydrocodone was also on the menu and would make me off balance
Months went by
I healed and the cane sat in the corner
Gathering dust like white blinds in a window
Till one day I decided it was going for a walk
It had sat to long and so had I
I walked through the thick scrub oaks of North Florida
So I could try to find a way to fix my mind
Down leaf covered paths of sand
Flanked with fronds from a sea of palmettos
Gently blowing in the humid breeze of my state
We walked across planked wooden bridges
With the soft sounds of a trickle from a creek just below
Twisting and winding through limestone banks
A big buck stood just before us
Without fear
For he knew we meant him no harm
His twelve points of bone were safe
For he knew
I needed no trophies to hang on the wall
I was looking for much more than a prize
I was looking for where I had lost my mind
A doe and her fawn grazed just beyond the meadow
As red flowers in bloom blew high in the canopy
On top of one tree
On one vine
In one very big forest
But they only seem to show themselves
To the ones who took the time to look up
To slowdown in the moment, like you and I
To stop treading the waves of the waters of worry
Long enough to breath
Long enough to find our bearings
As I walked with my hand around you
My mind began to calm
Each week I came home and worked on my cane
Staining, sanding, and refinishing again
Each week my cane worked on me
Walking with me as I picked up the pieces of shattered realities
One day I will be old and feeble
Walking with something that started out as scrap wood
A cane submerged in memories of miles walked
Good times and bad
A cane walked through the hours of my life