on the back porch

on the back porch
heard tires rolling on the by pass
near a mile away;
wind from the west is coming our way.

talked to a friend with a mountain place.
recalled our two years on another mount
when in quiet the only sound, the only sound
was of the earth itself.

how was that sound? indescribable.
beyond reach of words or imagination.
something other it was.
private. complete.

and now the grandmother clock
swung low and steady
was it the tick from two rooms away
or the house expanding that i heard?

it’s not the frogs
they sit silent in the pond
waiting passing hours
as slow rising sun rays approach

erasing sharp shadows with gleams,
bringing the warmth to our day.
what do you know,
what do you say?