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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. 

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