Make a vine into a basket
Weave it through the hands of craftsmanship
There is nothing that plays between imagination
That runs dry into the depths of reality
Intricate patterns intersect at numerous junctions

Shadow on the walls
The source of its light is somewhere else
Dark of night, only tells of the morn's light
A sweet rose wafts its breath
And give the bees a joyous feast

Flower into glory, I see your beauty
As hidden as it may seem
The song of your heart is meant to be sung
So go and sing
And let the birds hear your cry
They'll leave the heavens
And embrace your soul

?

The sun shines in our faces,
Moonlight brightens the night sky,
Stars are just flickers compared to the sun,
And when rain falls, the air is refreshed.

Fresh, green and verdant, full of life the place becomes,
Pasture, feed for creatures of the fields
And we are just consumers
With a keen sense of wonderment
How come humans are so blessed?

Night Walker

The night air was cool, almost refreshing, rain drizzled on his winter coat, the concrete paved streets of downtown Minneapolis was wet and some granite pavements of ritzy hotels and upscale buildings glowed under bright street lights.

Street life seemed dead, not the bustle and hustle that characterize the downtown life of most American cities. If there was any night life it was inside not outdoors. One or two buses working the graveyard shift passed by after a long interval, but men and women on bikes rode past him. The riders focused on getting to their destinations as a puppy ready for a treat of good behavior.

He walked cautiously, listening to the sounds of the air, paying attention to his environment, thinking of how a change of time makes a difference in human activity. Night and Day—what a difference that makes. Three or four blocks of walking, he heard a sultry voice coming from a speaker , he turned and noticed, he was in front of a Jazz club—Dakota Restaurant Jazz Club. He stood still and listened, he could not stay, it was night time, late at night, so he kept walking.

A few blocks up the road, he saw a restaurant closing for the day, a worker struggling with a big menu board on rollers, before reaching to give a helping hand, the worker was inside and the door shut. Not far from the closed restaurant was a busy pub, people drinking beer and having conversations. Through the glass he caught the eye of a shy woman by the window talking with a fellow so absent minded, beer bottle in his hand close to his mouth. He sighed at the sight, and thinks of how that could be a starting plot for a story-- The Shy Lady by the Window.

Not too long he walked by a place called International Corner, packed with people. Some playing cards, others on pool tables, at the far end were computer booths in the like of an internet café. Serious faces bent on chess boards and a greater number of supporters for the game of checkers, an obvious tournament of sorts was going on.

When he spotted the stonework building of a church, he knew he was closer to his destination. He increased his pace, took a right turn by a McDonald and in no time he was home. He opened the door, switched on the light, took off his shoes, hung his coat, and slouched on the couch, and called himself The Night Walker.

And that is the story of my night walk on Sunday March 30th 2008, in Downtown Minneapolis-MN.

Note that Downtown Minneapolis is a beautiful place, filled with sites of attraction-- a mall, museums, library and commercial buildings of interest and of course your high rise and pricey condos that are popping in every downtown of every major city in U.S.A I have been to, and believe me I have been to a lot them.