This image contains: me, smiling.

A Spring Constitutional

by Abbie Johnson Taylor



In the early morning, a cold wind blows.

Weak sunlight from a hazy sky offers little warmth.

Despite the chill, I’m glad to be out walking.

I smell fresh new-mown grass and hear bird songs.

In the park, a workman mows the lawn.

There’s no one else in sight.


I walk by the creek, hear its gentle babble,

the neighing of horses from a nearby veterinary clinic.

I smell their manure.

My white cane rolls from side to side in front of me.


In the late afternoon, I traverse the same path,

relieved to be out in the fresh air.

I hear the cries of children from the nearby playground.

My stomach tells me I’m hungry.

I quicken my pace, eager to reach home.


The above was published in the spring issue of The Avocet. Another version of this poem appears in my collection, How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver. You can click below to hear me read it.


A Spring Constitutional