Poems From The Porch
photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash.com
All is Well
The egrets are flying low over the field this morning.
The symmetrical bales have been removed,
and the land is a sea of green.
The wood from the tree that fell during the last hurricane is crackling on the firepit
—a cozy comfort against the grey chill of the day.
The fire is heating my slippered feet,
and my fluffy deva friend is warming my lap.
There are still bright, yellow flowers
blooming in the garden and in one pot.
Sunday is pancake morning,
made with toasted oat flour
and adorned with butter and pure maple syrup.
The ingredients are measured out and ready to be mixed,
a task I completed when I first got up.
Fozzy Deva was feeling affectionate
and just reached up to give me a kitty kiss.
We are both purring.
The bell in the church at the center of our town is ringing the hour,
and the builder of the fire has returned with another cup of coffee.
What in this moment is lacking?