Mismatched porch chairs
Litter the covered, L-shaped porch
Birds sing in the sturdy branches above and
Mountains line the horizon
Protecting and enveloping this town
Like a mother
Shielding her young from the world
The harsh realities that await them

It’s too easy to romanticize a place like this
That’s why I like to remember
The corner market next to the river
Next to the bridge that Molly would sleep under
Until the river washed her away
Or Tom
Who pushed his rusted grocery cart
Full of plastic
Until the wheels wobbled and fell into the current
One day it will claim the market as well
Its crumbling back end already teetering
Over the precipice
The water licking at the eroding bank
Demanding its next sacrifice

One day a giant wave
Will swallow this cute this little place
And no one will remember the decorations, the sevice
The french toast to die for ©
All that will remain is run-off
Dirty water pooling in a shallow ditch
Waiting for the next storm
To subsume and carry it
Toward the mountains beyond