Poems From The Porch
A dove, a sparrow, and a hummingbird are sitting in the crepe myrtle,
and I feel like Goldilocks looking at the size differential.
It is that sleepy time of morning for the cats.
They are sprawled out like small throw rugs on the porch floor, all fuzzy and warm;
a shake, a stretch, and a roll, belly-up, to settle again.
Their willingness to be vulnerable is impressive.
To fully relax, they need that disposition.
Funny how humans think that by armoring, we can relax.