I leave this chair on my porch--

I leave this chair on my porch

as proof of life, that this spot is lived on;

that here I watch, hear and read,

smile to the streets or think

while storms rolling in hard

never quite reach where I sit,

question grass length and cardinal color,

speculate on my neighbors,

their noisy, happy children,

laugh and am made mad

above books and pages,

and watch for the gesture

of a passerby in motion

as I lift my head and nod;

my legs crossed or not, I am content,

in comfort or not, I am content

to let the dirt and pollen stain my feet,

to let tiny bugs crawl and faucets to drip,

and as petals amass I'll not sweep them off,

as this spot is lived on and it is there

I must leave my chair, perched,

leaning comfortably, bent and prepared.