If I were to tell you something of my camino
you would nod and say uh huh,
as though you knew it.
But my camino is a million sights and smells,
the cuckoos calling, a smile, a limp, mud,
sun, breezes, flowers and snails.
Rain. For hours.
Hanging my laundry on a wire line,
massaging my feet and knees,
listening to a story, a stamp in my book,
weeing in a paddock, tears, not being able to get off my bed.
So many flavours, touches and thoughts.
Singing, aloneness, headaches,
joy, a laugh, spirit.
Skipping, cheese pudding.
I cannot tell you it all,
so I cannot tell you anything.