Morning on the Front Porch

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Morning on the front porch

Scanning the tree line

Alert for the movement of squirrels and the like

Outwardly I am quiet and still

But there is a storm inside

Thoughts whip by, threatening

Or promising

To carry me away

Then gone, replaced by another

Before I can grab hold

I have my mug in both hands

Just so I can hold on to something

As I distractedly watch the tree line

For a rustle or a swaying.

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