Under the roof of the Red Umbrella by Duane Kirby Jensen

We meet casually under the roof of the Red Umbrella,
waiting for musicians to loosen digits upon stringed instruments,
and give life to words that would waffle within strummed notes.
I looked at your plate of curried brie covered in sweet honey and crushed walnuts,
accentuated by a cluster of juicy red grapes and lightly salted crackers.
I asked which menu item this was,
you responded, with a slight gleeful giggle, that it was a custom order,
offering me a taste of honey and walnut and creamy cheese.
Conversation and wine followed,
I added a Mediterranean sampler to our quickly evolving picnic,
the musicians became an afterthought as our conversation become a song.
Hours slipped away and chairs were being stacked upon tables
before we realized it was time to leave.
We walked out from beneath the Red Umbrella, into the night of a full moon,
deep orange and as expansive as our expectations.
We walked through the park over looking Port Gardner Bay
which still shimmered within the pink afterglow of another fallen day.
We purchase minutes, the way children create excuse to stay up just a little longer,
even as we planned another day, to explore possibilities of days yet to be planned.

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