Porch Swing

My grandmother would sit for hours On her porch In a swing Facing an open field. I know now what I didn’t know then.

I used to spend the day Running back And forth Across the field Chasing bugs Until those late summer days Become too hot and muggy and I, too, wanted To be under the shade of that porch.

I would wonder if she wanted something More. Would run from rocking chair To rocking chair telling her everything I had seen in that field. I did not know What she had seen. Never learned What lies beyond that field.

We were alone. That space— Space enough to breathe And feel free For a moment. The whole time I was waiting for life to begin When it had.