They Sit Together on the Porch
They sit together on the porch, the dark
Almost fallen, the house behind them dark.
Their supper done with, they have washed and dried
The dishes–only two plates now, two glasses,
Two knives, two forks, two spoons–small work for two.
She sits with her hands folded in her lap,
At rest. He smokes his pipe. They do not speak,
And when they speak at last it is to say
What each one knows the other knows. They have
One mind between them, now, that finally
For all its knowing will not exactly know
Which one goes first through the dark doorway, bidding
Goodnight, and which sits on a while alone.
By Wendell Berry
The vintage newspaper illustration at top
hearkens back to my grandparents' front porch
in Southeast Kansas when I was a little kid.
The brightly lit porch above
makes me think of the house where I lived
when I did the most trick - or - treating,
during my K - 4th grade years,
in Neosho, Missouri.
The Naoko Stoop Illustration below
brings back my Philadelphia days, 1993 - 2001.
black & white, orange & teal!
Hearth and Home magazine cover
by Florence E. Nosworthy (1872-1936)
Another porch poem
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