ON THE PATH

On the Path
J.B. Rowell

My parents walk ahead,
view autumn, and point
at colors that stand
out. Side by side they walk
and I wonder: do they
love each other?

As a teen, I asked
both separately on walks
around the neighborhood
lake if they were meant
to be with the other.
They both answered,
"Of course."

They never put their arms
around each other, never
hold hands, yet they walk
side by side after 46 years.
Maybe that is enough:
the walking.

As my mind settles
on this answer, my father
reaches his arm
around her, they stop,
look up, and keep walking.