The Porch

dogs I sit beside

idly shoo a fly here and there

melancholy is a holy right right now

we share in its blunt protections

a summer morning is never quite the silence we expect

there is it seems a persistent rattle

like a snake lost in thick grass warning off only itself

dogs I wonder aloud about a heron

blue as day stuck on the palest smudge of moon

why doesn't it just fly away

it is oblivious to us

our intent stares

close by willows that have never wept survive

but little else

dogs have gone over to the low shade of oak

leave me no emotion

only the buzz of some unknown insect hovering

over the intersection

of a most perfect

blankness

The Porch

8.18.2021

JPPestana