For Sitting On The Porch. . . .

Few of us have means to hire out the prep work necessary to maintain our homes.  And getting the porch stained and ready to enjoy the summer is ours to do.

To sit at night, to wrap up the day, is such a simple thing and yet it is food for our souls we are perhaps too embarrassed to mention.

Necessary it is if we are to engage in what calls us to do the daily work which siphons our energies to get on with the ongoing life.  These are the times that unite us one to the other as well as our Source.

Early morning and dusk were for me the best times for sitting.  Early morning for the greeting of the birds ready to acknowledge, by a brief halt in their singing, my good morning.

But evening when I sat in the oncoming dark with my mind’s work in progress, I was haunted by memories which kept me company.  Never feeling alone but accompanied by centuries of companions who stood and looked with wonder with similar eyes fastened on the sky.

Seeing perhaps what my eyes did now.  These are your thoughts too?  This is how we lock into our humanity.

For Sitting On The Porch. . . 

It is a night
for sitting on the porch.
The night is soft and
there is a breeze about.
Soft.  A love night. . . .
How could it be better?

Only to share with an Other
whose eyes see as mine do;
the shapes of the trees
against the darkening sky.

The maples are round like balloons;
the irregular Tamarac whose wispy needles
look like bare branches.
The feel of the night like a caress,
a loving touch, a whisper.

I was the night and all my Self in it.


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