Poems From The Porch

There is a hint of Autumn in the air this morning,

brush of coolness on my face.

The chimes are whispering softly

as if not to wake.

It feels quiet,

pale blue with white wisps artfully placed;

the stillness uninterrupted

as a rooster announces the day.

There is a trail of ants reveling in the sugar water

I intended for someone else.

The little being to whom I was offering the gift

is momentarily resting on a limb.

How long do hummingbirds live?

It is a veiled thought of clinging

born of love.

I regret not cooking pancakes for my husband this morning.