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Walking through the tall pines of Perlarcher forst 
Munich Germany I walk deep within the woods 
every day the barbarian alps in my view colorful 
leaves rustle beneath my feet my London fog 
trench coat blows open in the wind as I wander 
over forgotten Polish graves my soul seeks solace 
in this Marianplatz meaning Mary's town why my
heart beat is just above a whisper leading to 
Fraunkirche Our Lady of Munich the coo coo clocks 
all rang out the bells chime in sequence wood cutter

saws while the milk maids dance as the enchanted
chimney sweepers hum downtown Munich near the 
Speilplatz park where the famous statues of writer
Thomas Mann my muse always enlightens need for
my self expressive desire alongside the Knight less 
black horse kneeling for Christ sake as my mind simply
dangles right here near Ava Braun's bungalow I imagine 
her slipping on lederhosen stockings awaiting the Fuhrers 
return to the guest Haus why I don't dare breathe or 
even utter a sound holding my brown paper bag
 
I remove a blue berry scone crumbs fall deep into
my cleavage while I settle into the Wienerwald 
for black coffee a Munecher is what I'm called
growing up in Munich Forgotten in time I suppose
 watching hedge hogs scatter like tiny little bushes 
making a God awful sound I think of America suddenly 
I am quickly reminded of 1944 victory my grandfathers 
boots trampling over Europe's unattracted era the 
tangible Tar Beach the Normandy's i feel the chatter 
of guns glaring planes flying over head taking bites
 
out of Italy i take cover within a red telly how far 
away is home my calm place comes right into view 
just in time for noon mass the meeting of Ratzinger 
arch bishop robed and cloaked shepherds abound 
me clock makers knocking on wood drinking wodka
in the bier garten a creative rush captured in the breeze 
wooden clogs pound the red cobblestone come come 
bitte bitte please inside gather inside the cathedral 
communion of the host peeking from stain glass windows 
the devil foot print lies in the garden entrance way 

a woman yelled Teusfelstritt serpent has escaped 
I take my seat father opens with Hail Mary full of grace
dark cloud surround the dome the towers began to sweat 
I kneel holding my rose colored rosary a clear vivid memory 
of now and then for the sake of his sorrowful passion Amen

Non fiction Written 2-13-2024 
based on my tour in Munich Germany
and my grandfather serving WW11
BY Yolanda Nicholsen American Poet American Writer
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