I Was Sitting On My Porch Tonight in Old

I used to be self-conscious about such. As if in doing so, I had to interact with the world around me. With people walking past my house. Now, I close my eyes, rest my hands on my thighs, sit, and breathe.

The mobile home park where I live is situated near 3 major highways. Over the years the traffic noise has increased. It used-to bother me but now I smile a little hearing it and use my imagination—a Traffic Symphony.
The big trucks often sound like a brass section. The smaller cars, woodwinds. People passing and talking can make it a muffled opera. Cars passing with loud music and mufflers are the fools in the audience oblivious to the Symphony.

The wind is interesting. Cool today. With my eyes closed, focusing on my breathing, I can imagine the wind as the wrestling embrace of ghosts that touch me with curiosity and then flow on to touch others. The anonymous touch is pleasant. I wonder if someday I too will touch with curious anonymous hands as a ghost wind, then move on and on being the wind.

I hear birds and relish the simple solo singers. I let go of thought and let the song enter me and return joyful feeling to the bird.

The trees move limbs near me and I whisper to them with mind that I will care for them. They wave to me telling me that with the hot summer, they will care for me, cooling me.

Sitting is not boring if we sit and listen and just exist as Listening.