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.