Here's my poem with regards to our poetry walk on Thursday.

Could have been watching tv,

On my futon with “Breakfast At Tiffany’s”.

Could have been reading my e-mail,

Catching up missed episodes of Smallville.

Could have been getting more sleep,

Dreaming of floating down the street.

Could have been listening to music all day,

Dean Martin singing "That's Amore".

Spent the afternoon soaking in scenery,

Forced to read women’s poetry.

Now not everything the poem implies is entirely true. I must say that I really did appreciate the relatively untouched naturalness of the trail we walked, and I must say the weather was absolutely beautiful. I'm really not one to appreciate nature much, but watching those brown things on the hills sway with the wind was strangely calming.

When it came to the poetry my attempts at looking busy failed, and in the end I have to read the amazingly long poem I just happened to choose. Truthfully, I really did not enjoy the poems in the book, but not because they were written by women or anything like that, but I think it's because they were mostly translations, and therefore some of the beauty of the poems was lost in translation. I do tend to like poems I read to at least rhyme a little, and have a certain flow to them, as Mr. Lovas pointed out when the poem I chose was one of the few rhyming ones.

Overall, the experience was rather enjoyable, and the only regret I have was that I did not bring my camera. Perhaps one day I'll return to take pictures.