High above the ground protected by a net
I have a refuge both quaint and circumspect
In my rectangle up high among foliage
I’m free as a bird that slumbers ‘mongst the leaves.
Two sides of my cage are solid as can be
but remaining half allows in lovely breeze
Back in days of yore, long before central-air
ancestors would sleep on porches without care
Many was the house that held a sleeping room
three sides naught but screens beneath projecting roof.
Forty-four degrees of northern latitude
slept on Grandma’s porch when summers made us swoon
Nice sized screened-in-porch just off master-bedroom
is al fresco space overlooks motors’ vrooms.
Tiny strip of grass, our lawn ends at wood fence
wider strip of trees ‘fore six-lane does commence.
In the warmer months when trees are thick with leaves
eyes are sheltered from cars roll cross artery.
Visually my porch perfect sanctuary
mostly traffic sound is just white noise to me.
Lying neath moonlight, or hearing rain’s patter
surely worth the cost of louder engines’ roars.
Best part of my day is when I lay me down
kissed by whisp’ring breeze with nature all around.