Good Night
winter porch no more
than a pause from inclement nip,
morphs to summer’s
sleeping room
for an airless postbellum
farmhouse.
mere mosquito nets
afford southern breezes
for urban grandkids
used to artic drafts
star view
night hawks
cloud imagination
moon set
before oblivion
10 thoughts on "Good Night"
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We sacrifice so much for comfort. I love the fresh air and views in your poem! Lights out!
Great description and observation here. This porch rat thanks you!
beautiful last stanza: the play between the monosyllabic parts of the natural world and the abstract nouns
i like how this poem puts itself to bed.
Fabulous. I live on my porches 3/4 of the year, taking full advantage of the sights you mention in the poem’s last stanza.
Lovely. Makes me long to sleep outside.
I echo the others. I always enjoy your work.
How lucky your grandkids are to get the nature perspective from you! Love this poem!
I feel like I’m laying on the porch and you are telling us stories in the night and we don’t want to go to sleep!!
I’m about to put up my hammock, Jim, and but a mosquito net.