My October Porch

Here's what I need:  A porch for sitting, for gathering dark thoughts and reflections that come in with the clouds, settling like a nubby hand-knitted sweater. A scattering of windblown leaves in the corner to keep me company. Here's how I'll get it: give a big shove to the bikes that nobody rides and send em rolling out to the driveway. Hang lights. Hang squash and pumpkins. Is that possible? Can I find wire strong enough --or do I have to gut the pumpkins first? Haul out an old table and load it up with candles, or oil lamps. Bring out a pot of tea. Strum a guitar. Screetch and scratch at my fiddle. There should be something in some dirt nearby, growing -weeds, vines, whatever. Put up pretend spider webs, or maybe just leave up the ones that are already there.

When I'm a-sitting on my October porch, you can come over. You can lean over the railing and talk to me, or leap over it and sit next to me. If it's a little chilly, don't let that stop you. I'll have something hot to drink.