This is what it is like on the back porch on the last Saturday of May with summer in easy reach, July beckoning from far beyond and August almost a distant dream: The sun is a lazy drifter moving through a grey smear of clouds in a bright blue sky and the trees are green and dark and there is no green like the deep green of trees against a blue sky, waking the eyes to a morning that will be too soon gone Yellow paint on balusters and rails, chipping and peeling, grey floor littered with empty husks of nuts discarded by local squirrels Soft morning light falls on brick-red pavers and a spider spreads her gossamer fantasy out from the corner of a kitchen window while a sudden flash of light signals the sun's emergence from behind a thin haze of cloud Sparrows, constantly on the wing, flit from one perch to another, moving from telephone pole to laundry line to lawn, pecking at whatever they can find first, one, then two, now five, now gone. Is that a cat I see, that dark and feral one whose passing is as silent as a shadow? I can see her stalking toward a screen of green foliage where she settles in a crouch to watch the action. And I hurry inside to grab pen and paper and the cat is moving and the yard is green and suddenly empty except for a single feather dancing in a soft breeze and all that’s left is the poem.
You should always have pen and paper on the porch… but it was nice to visit yours, and perhaps I’ll have to write about mine someday. Nicely done, Paul!
Thanks, Lor—Glad you stopped by to read and comment. I have also discovered that squirrels sometimes hide nuts beneath the cushions of the chairs on my front porch!
Thank you, Shondra. I want my work to connect with readers, to be the vehicle that creates an atmosphere of intimacy and trust between reader and writer, to be a space where the writer can share a world or a feeling or a secret and the reader can somehow recognize it, perhaps understand it, as their own.
The descriptions and personifications of time are my favorite. They're around for such of a short time and yet leave an impression that feeds the imagination of the reader of what else is seen during those months and different seasons. So many possibilities and yet only few can be captured with a writer's pen.
Sounds like nature’s still doing her tooth and claw thing… was out working in the yard last week when a bald eagle came swooping in through a gap in the trees in an attempt to snatch one of our neighbor’s chickens. I was maybe 40’ away… he missed and ended up sitting there as they were running around squeaking in a mad panic. He hopped up on a fence post and stared at me angrily, as if I was not supposed to see that, and that he was utterly pissed off and embarrassed. After a few seconds of starring at each other, I started laughing and said you suck, dude. You couldn’t even grab a chicken from an open pen? He looked away, and it almost felt like he shrugged just before he flew off. Only a couple of universal truths there… we’re all full of pride, and no one, not even the chicken, wants to be the Chicken!
BTW — a couple of chickens have gone missing this week. Am guessing he’s been back!
That’s the news from my backyard! With all the symbolic images of eagles out and about this weekend, seemed OK to note they are not always invincible! Cheers!
You are always welcome to join me, Patris. I helped a friend to launch his boat and move it across the bay to his slip so I may have adventures in sailing in my future. I will keep you posted—Thank you!
I’m thinking the same thing! It’s a big lake but shallow and more than a bit treacherous if the weather turns bad. We used to swim in it but the algae blooms spoil it for that. I will keep a personal flotation device in easy reach at all times, but I look forward to sailing in June with great people
You should always have pen and paper on the porch… but it was nice to visit yours, and perhaps I’ll have to write about mine someday. Nicely done, Paul!
There must be a song from the porch somewhere, Sea!
I may record one out there, what the hell?
My mind left the city and took a chair on your porch, Paul. Thank you so much.
You’re always welcome, Maureen!
Thank you, Paul.
A beautiful essay setting the scene.
Thank you, Stan—It was just yesterday and today the sky is grey and there’s rain on the way.
We had quite a storm last night.
I hope you and yours are safe and did not experience any damage. We're expecting light rain this morning but more later this afternoon.
Nothing really but out dog was freaking.
Simply beautiful.
Funny, I see the exact same thing, sans the cat and of course, the single feather.
Oh, and the railing is stained brown , but the empty husks are there . Along with squirrel.
Same view, but across the country.
Imagine that!
Thank you for writing it down.
Thanks, Lor—Glad you stopped by to read and comment. I have also discovered that squirrels sometimes hide nuts beneath the cushions of the chairs on my front porch!
The way you create a world and invite us is incredible. Thank you.
Thank you, Shondra. I want my work to connect with readers, to be the vehicle that creates an atmosphere of intimacy and trust between reader and writer, to be a space where the writer can share a world or a feeling or a secret and the reader can somehow recognize it, perhaps understand it, as their own.
This is what you do, again and again.
"...all that’s left is
the poem."
Perfection!
Thanks, Sydney
That's good fun, thanks Paul. That's the way to end a poem.
Thanks, Wes—Seemed that’s all it had to say!
Cat and poet stalking their prey.
It happened so quickly and that’s all I saw when I came back out from the house
The descriptions and personifications of time are my favorite. They're around for such of a short time and yet leave an impression that feeds the imagination of the reader of what else is seen during those months and different seasons. So many possibilities and yet only few can be captured with a writer's pen.
my heart's glowing reading this
Thanks, Mo!
Just gorgeous ❤️
Sounds like nature’s still doing her tooth and claw thing… was out working in the yard last week when a bald eagle came swooping in through a gap in the trees in an attempt to snatch one of our neighbor’s chickens. I was maybe 40’ away… he missed and ended up sitting there as they were running around squeaking in a mad panic. He hopped up on a fence post and stared at me angrily, as if I was not supposed to see that, and that he was utterly pissed off and embarrassed. After a few seconds of starring at each other, I started laughing and said you suck, dude. You couldn’t even grab a chicken from an open pen? He looked away, and it almost felt like he shrugged just before he flew off. Only a couple of universal truths there… we’re all full of pride, and no one, not even the chicken, wants to be the Chicken!
BTW — a couple of chickens have gone missing this week. Am guessing he’s been back!
That’s the news from my backyard! With all the symbolic images of eagles out and about this weekend, seemed OK to note they are not always invincible! Cheers!
Brilliant poem, Paul! Spectacular.
Thank you, Leon—I’m happy you like it!
I found myself joining you on your old house back porch. I had a cup of coffee in my hands. The picture you paint with your words is vivid.
Thanks for stopping by, Teyani, You’re always welcome!
Thank you for letting us sit beside you to watch and listen…
You are always welcome to join me, Patris. I helped a friend to launch his boat and move it across the bay to his slip so I may have adventures in sailing in my future. I will keep you posted—Thank you!
I’ll keep the water wings handy!
I’m thinking the same thing! It’s a big lake but shallow and more than a bit treacherous if the weather turns bad. We used to swim in it but the algae blooms spoil it for that. I will keep a personal flotation device in easy reach at all times, but I look forward to sailing in June with great people
Good to hear that you will. Sprites live in their depth! I mistrust lakes.
“a spider spreads her
gossamer fantasy out from the corner
of a kitchen window”—wow.
Thanks, Margaret!