Porch Swing

Today, it is the weathered color

of wisdom, gray as old barn planks,

a witness through the years to much—

ball games listened to on the radio;

a young couple holding hands

for the first time, unexpectedly;

a chilly October proposal,

nervously asked on one knee;

children swung to sleep as babies

to its rhythmic swinging creak;

while this very moment, a small

black dog snoozes on its slats,

wedged between this same  

couple, after a summer morning

walk, content, as bees hum busily

nearby in the nearly

heart-shaped hosta leaves.