A day in the life of a peregrina

 

I arise before the sun does 

and stretch silently in my bunk

vaseline rubbed over my feet, 

I must dismount without a clunk

 

As I pack my bag in silence

the rest of the room creeps awake 

my shoes laced up, my backpack cinched, 

those first steps do I take

 

Fueled by some fruit, and yogurt too,

the gentle morning sidles by

silence accompanies sunrise, 

it’s just me, the fields and the sky

 

What follows varies day by day, 

sometimes solitude, sometimes chats

with breaks interspersed in cafés

where someone might be petting cats

 

The sun always beats on our backs 

our poles clicking along the road, 

time can whiz by, or it might crawl, 

as we plod along with our loads

 

A piece of chocolate is fuel 

with just an hour or so to go 

we stop when its 12 or 1ish 

or maybe 2, you just never know 

 

Then checked in to our cheap hostel, 

we shower and wash our clothes,

after they’ve been set out to dry 

tortillas for lunch is our hope

 

The afternoon dawdles on by 

as we journal and stretch and read 

some days we mingle, making friends

some days green grass is all we need 

 

Dinner is often a gamble 

if there’s a kitchen, we can cook

or we find a café near by

that has warm bowls of lentil soup

 

We’ll stroll through the city briefly,

grab our laundry and pack our bags 

in bed by 8:30 or 9,

our sleep schedule is a bit mad. 

 

Each day is full of such beauty 

in the midst of my aches and pains

roses galore, “Stop here and smell!” 

they never fail to exclaim.

 

Through rolling fields of peas and wheat

vineyards abound and poppies too 

there’s poetry in each moment–  

in God’s mountains and my old shoe.