Front Porch

I'm sitting on my porch.

the sky full of blue,

and the air full of heat.

I'm not sitting in the rocking chair,

as all Southern tradition say I should --

Instead, I brought out a folding chair,

and I sit in the shadow of column and flag.

Porches are obsolete, here.

I have no company to tell stories beside,

nor a view to beckon me outside the house.

Just the mailbox across the street,

and twittering birds,

the noise of cars at the intersection below.

 But someone built this porch,

so I sit here with the breeze,

thinking my subconscious is cleverer than

I'll ever be.