T.M.

A porch is where I find her.

Not any porch, because the where didn’t matter.

Sunlight met her before I did.

Her hair and her frames both share with the light. I didn’t think of that before… but I do now. She laughs and I appreciate that. That she laughs.

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Not often alone, but some days — it was just her, and the day.

Gardens she’d grow, bees and butterflies she’d named. She named me too.

It’s her sandal leather before it’s her shorts, but I notice them. I notice them both.

She cares for me, and I appreciate that.