It’s raining out so I sit on the old green bent rocker on my studio porch.
A symphony of raindrops splash off the metal roof,
cedar branches, maple leaves and the dirt path.
Ravens deep calls in the distance, tree frog seems to answer.
I’m staring at the trunk of a massive maple tree covered in moss.
Rain drops hang like pearls from the fronds of yellow green moss.
I smell wet leaves, chilly fresh air and a faint scent of male deer.
Hard to keep my thoughts here, now.
So much to do, I’m a little cold.
A seaplane takes off in the inlet and I too head inside.
I need to do this more.
Just sit and soak in the sounds, smells and sights of my paradise.
Nothing should be more important.
©Sharron R. McMillan