“until you walk a mile in my moccasins . . .”

round one

The odd thought came out of nowhere. It happens. Sometimes I'll call one of these out. I shopped on Amazon. The pair I chose listed six sizes.

Then I thought back, “ . . . sounds like a noble sentiment, but what if they don't fit?” And nowhere stayed mum.

Next I mused privately (quite possible in a case like this) about the many threadbare sentiments floating about. So why, I wondered, should I not beg to differ? We're not talking just moccasins here, but the possibility of sharing a certain point of view, another experience. And also my rhetorical assertion that there is no other mind just like mine..

Isn't it a tautology to say that we are all different? But that won't dismiss the truth of it. For example, as I sit here no one else can. At no time will anyone else be able to to be me. I am unique. Everyone is unique. And you, wandering the poetic wilderness, can put my moccasins on your head if you wish.

No answer.

round two

in a slight breeze

feathered shadows fly

visiting hummingbirds

vanish