Inner Dialogue

I'm sitting out here on what used to be called "the front porch swing". Now it's sort of "the end of the house under the pine trees swing". The night is so dark that I have a coleman lantern hanging on one end. The wind is rustling through the poplar trees and I am kicked back as the swing gently moves back and forth. In the distance, I hear barking dogs, cars on the highway, and a small airplane somewhere far away. It's a perfect place to reflect and write. Very calming. Very peaceful. Very nice.