Monday, May 7, 2012

On the Porch

My grandmother's rocking chair bumps and creaks
Across the unfinished boards
Of the farmhouse porch
Clacking and creaking
Clacking and creaking
I hum the melody
With the crickets soft in harmony
And his blue eyes peeking up at me
Not wanting to close the day

Across the field, not yet sprouted
Misty with evening dew
Over the dark ridge of woods beyond
The horizon glows a brilliant pink
Bids the stars appear
And the light to sink
To close the day

Lone Venus shines
In the dusky blue
Through the ragged branches
Of the weather-beaten pines
They whisper to the elm
Now stripped of its bark
But somehow majestic
Covered in ivy
Sharing stories too soft to hear
For the last hundred years
To close the day

The brisk, sweet breeze
Quickens me and quiets him
Warm under his blanket
Cradled in my arms
He listens for their whispers
Gentle with the crickets
Rockers softly creaking
Slumber slowly sneaking
Under heavy eyelids
To close his day

Long after he stills
And I can no longer tell
Field from horizon
Or branch from black sky
I repeat the song, keeping pace
Preferring the weight
Of his sleeping form
To the weight of the unfinished chores
And the unspoken words
Inside the door

On the unfinished boards
of the farmhouse porch
Clacking and creaking
Clacking and creaking
I hum the melody
With the crickets soft in harmony
To soothe the wounds
Inside of me
And close my day

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