Front porch

I’m sitting on the front porch of my son’s

House in Overlook in Portland, Oregon.

I miss having a front porch early in the

Spring morning with the birds chattering

In the trees, the beautiful walnuts and maples

And ornamentals with brown-red leaves.

When I used to smoke this was quiet alone time

Now it’s quiet alone time too with neighbors

Strolling by on their morning walk.

Chitter chitter, maybe it’s the robin eho used to nest in the eaves of the porch and when the nest was removed would nest again year after year.

Chickadee, chickadee cries the little bird warning the boisterous jay away.

Knock knock knock comes not from a flicker or woodpecker but from a neighbor knocking off the dried mud from shoes that worked in the garden yesterday. 

Oh shit, mosquitoes, because we had no winter this year Mosquitos abound without swallows or bluebirds or bats to consume them.

I wait for my friends from NOLA to inventory camping gear we will use at SOAK next week in Tygh Valley in eastern Oregon.

And enjoy the front porch once again.

  
– Small Town Boy

       q<>::<>p

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