Communion

I am back sitting on the old chair,
in the porch in the backyard,
pondering about life and things to come,
of the ways of the world
so wicked and wrong,
of the good laughter and warm hugs
of family and friends,
loved-ones all,
on how love,
as Lennon said,
must simply be enough.
It simply must.

I see the evening birds zooming from branch to branch,
their birdsong so sweet and low.
A calling to mate,
or a wanting of not being alone.

Farther away
trees dance
with the wind.
And there is a drone of breeze
giving confort to the ear,
and so I fall to sleep.

Back on the old chair,
in the porch in the backyard,
I dream of a better world to be,
of how stupid it would be
if people wore nametags on their lapel,
and went about their chores
greeting every other person
that crossed their path.

Stupid indeed,
but such wonderful,
the feeling of small town,
and communion.

I open my eyes
only to find myself
smiling.