The Porch View

Craving the trees

and the crest of leaves

and the alarms of birds' songs

Like the bread and butter

I need

to sustain daily life

Is it in a southerner's blood

to feel alive

rocking on an open porch?

Or is it that

when the open air is gone

for a long time

You suffocate without

breathing it in?

Suns set, pines fall,

and the sky is a daily masterpiece

no artist can recreate

And we find these things

set before us

every minute

But smog covers our view

and says "It is like

any other day.

You have more important

things to do."

While the heart,

the artist's soul,

says, "Oh no.

I painted these hues

just for you...

So you would sit

and find nothing

but breathing to do."