Poems From The Porch

Lemon Meringue Sweetness

Glasses don’t stay on when you do cartwheels.

I didn’t know this because I never had to wear them before.

Now I am kneeling in the evening grass;

now lying in the tender greenness, belly-down with four cats.

We are watching the sunset clouds.

I look up and see the moon smiling a crooked smile at me.

The cicadas are singing their nighttime song,

and the breeze is unseasonably cool.

There are street sounds in the distance as the pine boughs sway a lullaby.

I might have a piece of pie tonight—lemon meringue sweetness.

It feels urgent to turn over and lie back in the soft grass

because the world is so amazing and the sky is blue-grey.

I am back on the porch now,

and the paper is glowing under my pen.

I hear children playing in the nearby neighborhood.

I feel a tug to leave this beauty for another.

It is more than lemon-meringue sweetness that calls me inside.

It is the man who is waiting for me patiently

because he knows I can’t help myself.

I am so in love with the world.