Sitting on the Porch with Lily

[RSherman]

Upon waking at midnight.
I look outside
to see if the little unhoused calico
is sleeping on “her” wicker chair.

I affectionately refer to her as
Lilliputian, Lily Pad, Callalily.
Someone once wrote that nicknames
are “silly syllables that contain so much love”.

I pour a small drink
in Aunt Irene’s old jelly jar
and head outdoors.

Lily crawls into my lap,
solitary beings
content to share a few moments
of companionship,
basking in the honey light
of a soft yellow bulb.

Surrounded by mums, pumpkins, and cornstalks,
we enjoy this quiet October night
startled only when a walnut drops,
sounding like a bomb.