Porch

Spindle-posted porch
sans house – half-doused
with cartoon coloring –
all flimsy and askew –
a child’s dream – without
one shadow, bit of whimsy,

or contextual long
view: no more than what
its scribbles seem: and yet
as true and sound
as any other human
scheme. Perhaps, my dear,

there are no depths
to anything – maybe
everything’s a kind
of fragile open breezeway:
plain and fresh – ephemeral –
accessible – as Spring.

.