Here on the porch,
the evening’s eyes begin to close
and wind, having nowhere to go
settles into quietness.
Corn fields embrace calm stillness,
releasing all bustling as I
gaze upon a last ray of sun,
a warm goodbye.
Even the stream, from a run to a walk
is barely heard trickling slowly
onward, expectant of night.
I think nothing.
There is no talk.
Only the coziness of evening’s blanket
as my swing sways back and forth
in end rhymed air.
