He looked outside at the dew on the ground and decided he’d go walk through it barefoot like when he was a boy…his dad used to call it walkin’ on water…

The cool grass made him think of his childhood in Arkansas…chilly Fall days with the leaves changin’ and squash and pumpkins bein’ harvested…mums in different colors…golds…rust…purple…sittin’ inside of country baskets on the wooden porch wrapped ’round the old house with black shutters and belly windows up top…white paint chippin’ off…

And so he walked through the dew on that cool September morn…with his mind a million miles away…away from bills and kids and his wife…back to when things were simple…he longed for simple…

As he strolled on the wet grass he wondered if his daddy ever took walks on water when he was a man…he never saw him do it…never saw his dad much at all…but he remembered the old man tellin’ him to go walk on water…he said walk on it as much as you can…

So now he spends his days walkin’ on the cool grass come Autumn…walkin’ in no particular direction…just walkin’…almost dancin’ to songs in his head…neighbors and kin folk looked out their windows at him as if he were crazy…

He just kept walkin’…just kept walkin’…