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Rumi on the Front Porch
First, I removed all the clocks from my house,
then I removed the mirrors,
I watered the plants, trimmed the dead leaves
and swept the kitchen,
then I went outside and sat on my front porch,
Rumi book in hand.
I just sat there, doing nothing,
a few people walked by.
I waved at them and they waved back,
a dog barked,
I thought of a few things I had thought of before,
then I opened the book.
Rumi lived 800 years ago,
but he was rocking right next to me on my front porch.
He said something that made us both laugh,
for a moment we forgot who we were,
then Rumi started singing something that made no sense,
kind of like a flock of drunken birds,
flying in a strange pattern,
with the wind at their backs.
— © Mitchell Lewis Ditkoff, 2024
Unspoken Word: Love Longing & Letting Go
My Facebook poetry group
MitchDitkoff.com
