he walks as gracefully as a dancer,
his stride even and unhurried, each
foot placed with confidence.
He could be a business man or
a professor, but he is a soldier
marching down the bike path in
his combat fatigues and well polished
boots, a dark cap gracing his head.
His gaze is straight ahead and calm,
except when I call out my usual morning greeting
when we cross paths near the bridge;
I am rewarded with a nod and
a slight smile.
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