Various Thoughts from the Front Porch Steps
Grey fog can conceal just about anything,
every mountain peak and inch of sky,
I asked you to kiss me once —
rain flies down my face.
The rain now drips and dribbles down my back
and I sit regardless.
I spend most days sitting outside
whether sun, storm, or shine fill the sky.
Grey fog becomes dotted with inky wings as
birds explode from the neighbors’ roof
in frantic fashion.
I wonder where they're headed,
I wonder where they roam.