Under Our One Umbrella

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In the soft autumn rain, the city moves a little slower,

as you and I glide past lampposts lit, chasing the fog

the smell of pepper bread, sesame, and green curry

calling, inviting us in for a table for two, our hands touch

and always a peppermint later as we leave, meeting

the sidewalk once more, with my arm

around you, we pass the fountain

in the square, leaning over

for a light kiss

under

our one umbrella.

       

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies

My Brothers and Sisters

ranch with hills

North Dakota doesn’t have a city,

a ranch instead blinded,

by country dreams of paradise.

I love nature, and the peace,

of a gentle breeze on the meadow,

but I heard someone screaming,

on 2nd avenue,

I think it was Chicago, waking me up,

a broken heart was crying again,

on 1st street, was she ok?

and The Clash were praying loudly,

at the cathedral.

Next door the museum had jazz,

holding up artwork,

with hooks and bobbie-pins,

budget cuts. Almost empty.

Elvis was on Maple Street,

stuck in time,

wild eyes darting, looking,

for the next bus out of town,

bumming a cigarette.

I heard the street preacher,

with his white pit bull discerning,

on East and Main, who needed salvation,

was he crazy?

I started packing sandwiches,

no agenda,

I just needed to get down to the city,

to be with the human beings,

to be, with my brothers and sisters.

 city

Blessings to everyone and PEACE!

“If you love nature, you will love people.”

Poetry © Copyright 2015, nicodemasplusthree

images from google

A Human Being

Fall in the Forest

 

This office building oppresses me,

it tries to tell me I have no identity,

filing papers, and pushing buttons,

like everyone else,

I need the wholeness of the earth,

the wisdom of the sky,

and the restoration of the water,

so I can be free,

and creative,

not a number, a place

where the Creator can speak to me,

and I can listen from the heart,

hearing peaceful strength,

and I truly can become,

a human being, once again.

 

Poetry © Copyright 2014, nicodemasplusthree

Brothers and Sisters

Brothers and Sisters

New Hampshire doesn’t have a city

instead blinded by the sunlight,

country dreams of paradise.

I love nature, and the peace

of a gentle breeze on the meadow,

but I heard someone screaming

on 2nd avenue, it woke me up.

A broken heart was crying again,

on 1st street, was she ok?

and The Clash were praying loudly

at the cathedral.

Next door the museum had jazz,

holding up artwork

with hooks and Bobbie-pins –

budget cuts. Almost empty.

Elvis was on Maple Street,

stuck in time looking

for the next bus out of town,

bumming a cigarette.

I heard the street preacher,

with his white pit bull discerning,

on East and Main, who needed salvation.

I started packing sandwiches,

no agenda –

I just needed to get down to the city,

to be with my brothers and sisters.

 

© Copyright 2014, nicodemasplusthree