It’s interesting
At the sidewalk crossing
the’Don’t Walk’sign comes on
and the green light switches on the otherside.
The man besides me stops,
turns around,
walks back to the button for the crosswalk,
and starts pushing it.
Repeatedly.
As if the light will just suddenly turn back to red
and the sign would turn to ‘Walk.’
I wonder what God he believes in.
Category: POETRY
The Walking House
The trees whisper to me,
as we walk passed ‘em.
We hike along the tree line
your hand intermingles with mine, We kiss.
“Come on,” I motion you to the woods.
“This is my walking house.
It’s a sacred place.
a place of memories,
of love, hope and of faith.”
I introduce you to each tree.
as we stroll down the path
under the canopy of leaves.
I need the trees,
these proud silent majestic beasts,
hanging over my soul.
As I lie under their branches,
scribbling in my notebook,
they acquaint me with the life
which passes beneath.
Smyon-Pa 