i like to come back to it …

i imagine a comfortable chair somewhere near by,
on the porch, with a little table nearby,
some cobbled shelves with a few stones, shells, dried flowers
and perhaps a fragile bird’s nest that was left in a bush last summer.

there is a little stack of books on the table
and an empty glass of iced tea.

there are several little stacks of books
on the wooden deck around the chair.
not abandoned. waiting.

there’s more than stars in the blue sky.
there’s poetry in the air.

/e