Poems From The Porch
Depends On Your Perspective
There are five hummingbirds chirping around the feeders this morning.
The hum of their wings announces their presence before they arrive.
One has a vivid, ruby throat.
Some might say that they are guarding their territory,
but it looks more like a game;
replete with running backs and tackles,
but no quarterback.
A score is made when they enter the endzone of the feeder.
There are doves, sparrows, and blue jays out today, too.
A cat is stalking one of them.
Another cat is bullying his feline relative on the porch.
I don’t like when he does that.
The air is still this morning,
so it is laden with the smoky fragrance of the sage incense I am burning.
There are small, red rose blooms on the elderly bush near the porch.
Their fragrance is also generous.
Illuminating beams have not adorned the wooden rails of my sanctuary yet
because there are clouds blocking the sun’s view.
The day feels spacious before me.
There is no urgent problem to solve on the agenda;
just meaningful work,
a visit with a friend,
and the evening with my husband.
Now the hummingbirds appear to be dancing a minuet together.
A dance, a game, or a struggle;
I’m glad I have a choice in how I view things.