(a continuing series I call the “porch project”)

I sit out upon my porch, my usual place, do I wish to write about the birds, the coming spring, the buds on trees? I’m simply not in the mood, while all of those things are certainly true, instead, I close my eyes and imagine everything is slowly fading into nothing – revealing, phasing back to the way the world was, before this land was torn about and put upon, all to meet our needs as a species,  assigning and asserting our assumptions upon the landscape, but now, in this dream, I am sitting on a rock, viewing out upon a chain-o-never ending hills, golden grasses swaying in unison in the breeze, local fauna in all manners of splendor, maples and oaks left to roost in their own glory, a world certainly alive with the madness of squirrels and chipmunks, tides of birds flowing in and out of frame, deer in packs like herds roaming in thousands, lynx on the prowl in the shadows, and bears the kings of all they may see emerging from their winter burrows.

I was digging once as a child, in the backyard, as children do, well, at least before smart phones, and came across what now I realize was clearly a river bed, perhaps river is a bit strong, but surely this was the work of water, perfectly smoothed rocks aligned in a basin, a sorted bed, harsh rock edges worn away by the constant water flowing over time, I even found a fossilized fish inside one of these rocks, so perhaps my (this) projection will not be historically accurate but no matter, this is a mental exercise not science or archaeology, I can put them away for today and dream, such as this, so I imagine this brook running through what was once (or now) my fence line, how the water must be clean and clear like the finest crystal in liquid form gleaming in the warming sun, yet ever cool fed by a natural spring, and this dream, there are no sounds here, for whatever reason I can only hear the visuals, the calming water, hypnotizing me, in this dream…
and with that, shatters, in comes actual sound to break this meditation, the gravely churn of a big wheel approaching, a car screaming down the street at speed for no reason, and the quibbling of the robin who was patrolling my lawn but had to run off across the way to avoid human interaction, sigh, at least for a moment, at least for a time, I lived in a dream of what once was, not that I mind the now but I certainly didn’t mind the escape. so I withdraw back inside and bid you a good night, my world, thank you.