Old Man on the Porch

by Gary Sackett

Hat on Red Rocker

Photo courtesy of Cathy Sackett


From a distance, faintly heard,

whispers of music,

calling to the soul.

Gently caressing his lips,

metal and wood.

Wind harmonics converge.

Rocking not rolling, the chair moves.

To the millions in his audience,

those, not seen.

Anyone listening? He knows the truth.

The standing ovation,

within his heart,