Front Porch Forest Monastery

Today I sit on my porch

A quick walk to the car

Was long enough to capture me

So I stop and sit amid the day

It is harder to find my breath

While the wind swirls my skin

Nature is never still

So I let myself lick my dry winter lips

And suddenly there it is

Breath tingling coolly

And mixing with the breeze

My clothes warmed by the sun

Give off a scent of fresh sheets

From my grandmother’s clothesline

Slight sweetness wafts my way

Daffodils or honeysuckle climbing

Some finches warble wildly

And a sleepy owl hushes softly back

Leftover leaves rustle and crunch

Underfoot of bugs or squirrels

No tigers here but large trucks

That speed and rattle past

An emergency siren calls out

A quick train whistle warns

But I am still enough and settling

I do not close my eyes

Granules embedded in the stone

Glisten and wink with the sun

Like sand on a beach, or dying stars

Tree shadows dance on concrete

Darkly contrasting the grey

Then fade as clouds travel by

A chill wins out without the sun for warmth

The season has only just begun

To fight the winter for its arrival

Wind chimes sing out all the while

So I choose one for my bell

I bow to this world

And rise grateful to have been in it

— by me

porch-art-scholzFront Porch by Art Scholz

~ by April on April 1, 2013.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: