When you stand on it in the middle of the day and close your eyes you can hear in the distance the sounds of acorns falling heavy out of tall oak trees. Crickets are chirping continuously in the key of D, birds are busy eating from the feeders nearby. The air feels cool out here on the porch, insects buzz, the old dry leaves of dying sunflowers rub together like crumbled papers. Another nut falls in the woods. You can smell dry pine, rotting mushrooms, pond water, leaves, wood bark, wild grapes, earth and wind. Colorful zinnias are waving like upright magic wands back and forth, back and forth. Bees hum, chickens sing, and the clean dewy grass is lovely, you know it would feel so good pressed against your temples and forehead. Garden toads and worms are in the hidden parts of the gardens surrounding the porch. Wind-chimes, clothesline, bells, all dangle and wave. The sky is smoothly blue and dotted with clouds. If you squint at the trees all you can see is orange.
But in the morning all is quiet. Misty falling fog wraps around the porch. Large plastic spiders have woven a cotton doily web and a black cat sits, patiently waiting to be let inside for his morning can of food.