ON THE STREET WHERE I LIVE

It's Mystical; It's Spiritual; It is so very real
Little children playing: "You be bachelor no. 3"
Squirrels squirting about, upraised with acorns in their hands chewing and
with a serious whimsy in their eyes
Dogs leaping with a joy only a dog I guess can know
Cats all subtlety and knowing and expressing a loveliness of attitude and
feeling, a humanness only a cat I guess can know

Fathers playing ball and jumping rope withtheir children showing a
tenderness and solicitude that seems and is so fatherly and mystical
An air, a song in the air of breeze and muffled shrieks of humor and delight,
an insistent call from angels
A light, so fine and Godly it lends that Godliness to the persons who dance,
in a walking down the street, in its midst who look and feel and say
"Ahh!, maybe after all things are all working out for the best"

Mothers with small boys and girls tugging at the hems of their skirts,
Mothers with a babe in a wagon, pulling that wagon and its cargo to, to the
Dream store

Mothers pregnant all bulging and cornucopiaed, giving out a swelling
handshake to the world and saying "this indeed is love and life with my
patron at my side to go with me through time and down and down this street"

On the street where I live there is a blessedness from Time and God, open
windows at night with a "fine you can look in and see, all's right in here"
At night, in the day, a congregation of souls and bodies expressing gently a
validation of our most sacred yearnings

The Mother of our God on this street where I live, despite whatever
unfortunate but necessary for whatever reason sufferings of its angelic
souls, has put her foot down and said "this is where life shall be lived most
substantially and real"

The young adults here, in their tumultuous change from cherubic child to
kingly adult have a lift, a good start, know it or not on this most
naturalistic, matter of fact street
Where I live

This street where I live, like a bountiful, voluptuous lover has wrapped me
in its arms and drawn me to its lips
Then whispered in my ear:
"All's Right, All's Right..."

Copyright Christopher Steele Brower
Note: This poem was written when I lived on Mars Ave. in Lakewood.
I live on Detroit Ave. now, which is a main thoroughfare. But it's pretty
much the same thing, especially if you walk down any side street. All
the things I describe in this poem, I actually saw or experienced. I didn't
make any of it up.