Rocking on My Porch

The outline of the billowy cumulus clouds,
announcing fair weather,
mimic the line of tree tops
across the sky.
An accidental splatter of orange
tinges the top of one tree,
heralding the arrival of
meteorological autumn.
The black-eyed Susans gather
so densely around the base of
my mailbox that they could almost be mistaken
for a cheetah lounging in the warm, filtered sun.
The sound of songbirds is absent among the
call of the last few cicadas longing for a mate.
One at a time, three monarchs flutter
south on their way to Mexico
as crows discuss their plans for fall
among the canopy of the trees,
and the crickets sing their daytime lullaby.
The cool breeze animates the leaves
to add their rustle to the symphony,
and a flash of red heralds the arrival of two cardinals
offering percussive tweets.
And here am I rocking on my porch,
being blessed by it all in a rare solitary moment
already interrupted by my son's
heartbeat rhythm stomping
onto the wood,
asking for his sister and rattling along with his
toy John Deere key set, pretending to drive.
The trick is trying to recapture the moment -
but it's slipped away.
No matter,
I'm enjoying the moment that's come.