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