Walking

There’s a meditative quality of walking in west Penwith that always heals me and fills me again. My walks this May were sometimes on my own, sometimes with a sister or two, sometimes with the whole gang. They were filled with wildflowers and big blue skies. The ocean churned beneath me, so far away down the dizzying cliffs that it was hard to hear the waves rolling in on the rocky cove beaches. One foot chases the other, yard on yard, mile on mile, a rhythm of walking on old paths.