Sunday morning I had some time so I grabbed a cup of coffee, my composition book and a pen and headed out to the back porch. I hope you can, at least in part, enjoy that wonderful world with me. Here’s what I wrote:
Morning… with a back porch dweller
Squirrels twitch and jitter
Scurrying here and there
Storing up winters fare
Nests in the carport are quite
Future moms and dads flitter out and about
Making last-minute preparations
A sip of coffee, French Vanilla
My flavor choice for today
A riot breaks out in the treetops, one yard over
A top section of the tree shakes violently
As chatter fills the air
I watch in eager anticipation
Chatter building to a small roar
And then I see them!
Three squirrels, no wait, it’s four this time
Making a bee-line to nowhere fast,
In their crazy sport of high wire tag.
Another sip, flavor filling my nose
As the cup tips back
Flooding my mouth with the warmth of coffee
A gentle breeze glides through
Its soft, cool touch
A nice counter to the warmth of coffee
Working its way down my throat
A cat, black and white, like a little panda
Saunters through the back yard
Past the burst of yellow wild flowers.
His pace is steady
As he makes his way across the yard.
Little panda stops.
I give a small whistle
A short kitty call
Pursing my lips together, I make one quick kiss sound.
Little panda looks over as if to say
“Oh, it’s only you”
As he meanders over to a sun spot
Peaking its nose through the tree,
And flops down.
Birds continue their morning song
The give and take of call and answer.
A mocking-bird put its amazing vocal skills on display
The “Juke box” of birds.
A cat’s low growl breaks in.
I look over
The sun spot has shifted nervously to the right
And little panda is gone.
A few more cat rumblings, but no brawl.
Two mocking birds go flying through
One in chase, the other in haste.
They perch in a tree a few feet apart.
“Now?” he asks.
“No, not yet” her reply.
And she’s off again with him in hot pursuit.
Could he be the bird “juke box”
The serenader from before?
Another branch, another
“Maybe if you can catch me”
She’s off again and the dance continues.
Last sip of coffee,
Will have to get another cup soon
An orange cat comes through the back
Moving from sun spot to wild flowers.
Cat growls now understood.
This one’s on a mission,
Like a tiger on the prowl.
A second skirmish kicks up
As the squirrels start another game of high wire tag,
This time in one of the three massive beauties in my yard.
Swirling down, then back up the trunk
Before darting out one of the limbs,
Little pieces of twigs and bark cascade down.
A squadron of three or four birds
Swoop up and over the near fence
Dipping back near the ground, under radar,
Then up and over the far fence
Taking their chatter with them.
A tip of the cup
And the last few drops
Drag themselves off the bottom.
Slowly, they crawl their way down the inside of the mug.
They hang on the edge for a couple of seconds
Before gravity tears them loose
And they plummet to my waiting mouth.
Time for a refill.
Sitting back, I close my eyes and listen.
Stephen Kellogg – 2012