It snowed in Colorado Springs the other day. When I looked out the window that morning, I saw heavy, wet flakes falling on the apple blossoms. But this morning, the weather is very different.
Today, it has hardly dawned at all. The sky is heavy with rain and clouds, and for the first time in months, I hear thunder.
I wish only that I had a porch. All this excitement is going on these days in the Springs, and yet I don’t have a place with a bit of roof over me from which to sit and watch it.
The only thing better than a porch, you know, is a friend and a porch. And the only thing better than that is a friend, a porch, and something seasonal to drink.
My upstairs neighbor has woken and is now coaxing his beautiful dog out the back door. She is reluctant because of the rain. Of course, if I had a porch, I could sit on it petting his dog and pretending to commiserate with her about the exciting weather.
The best poems are written on porches. Everyone knows that. Even if you don’t actually write out a poem while sitting on your porch, the time you spend there is never wasted. That’s because a porch is where you can make many of your best observations and reflections for a poem.
Sometimes, a person or thing is so beautiful some of its beauty will stick in your mind for years. Several years ago, I sat on a porch by a lake and spent nearly the whole of a day watching the windblown rain and lake water. In the end, I felt some of that beauty had soaked into me, and that night I dreamed only of nature.