Every Friday Jesus walks down 4th Avenue North
carrying plastic bags from IGA.
Sometimes wind spirals his wispy white beard
round the tall staff that measures his stride.
The folds of his long wool coat
move in waves,
like he’s walking on water.
Once in a while, his eyes dance with the sky
and he shouts out,
spilling clouds of syllables
scribbled from his mind.
Brenda Warren 2020
Adventures in Poetry and Writing
brenda warren
Reclaiming my inner badass at 50
All students need a safe and caring school environment
Just another WordPress.com site
poetry by nicolas ryan brown.
Writing for Wholeness
Waiting on Words
A Feminist Literary Collective (& outlaw poets swearing)
"What a strange bundle of consistent inconsistencies we all are." Mary Ronan
The weather and the light are just different out here...and sometimes you have to find the words for things.
My poetry is my religion.
Sunshine on Razor Wire: perspectives from "inside"
Be inspired...Be creative...Be peace...Be
a weekly flash fiction prompt inspired by google maps
Observations from the loose nut behind the wheel.
spiritual enlightenment and self improvement
undercaws 
I agree. The imagery in this is wonderful. Love this poem.
Love,
Pamela
LikeLike
Love this Brenda, full of great imagery and so very visual.
Elizabeth
LikeLiked by 1 person
So much to love in this one! I love that Jesus is carrying “plastic bags from IGA.” So good. And this: “The folds of his long wool coat move in waves, like he’s walking on water.” Thanks for those images. xox
LikeLike
How nice to be reading your words again, Brenda!
LikeLiked by 1 person