the porch at the cabin

 

the screened porch

the screened porch at our homely home in the Smokies

is a perch, within which we can be both comfortable

and spectator to what forest and creek

murmur to us with sound and sight,

there is a rightness here that we need

a foundational rightness that is too often lost 

when we are within rooms that confine us,

as if in boxes that can lull us with comfort

and away from the Great Mother, the Earth Herself,

as I sit here this late afternoon, the creek soothingly sings,

and heat lightning staccatos a thunder above,

sometimes a bear will walk by, occasionally a heron,

this year the rosebay rhododendron have already lightly bloomed,

there is the piercing call of bird in flight or song,

including an aggressive hawk about noon,

the frenetic scamper of a chipmunk,

the glistening light upon leaves wet from yesterday's storm,

the wind that rearranges the parts,

the butterfly, the moth,

there is a comforting rhythm and melody underlying it all

with individual improvisations within and upon that underlying structure,

each play their part with quiet virtuosity.

by Henry H. Walker

June 27, '25