Windswept Front Porch

Not sure which is fresher, the breeze or the faces
who find themselves sharing my weathered, old porch.
Laughing and twirling, and whispering voices - 
the wind and the children, I’m fond of them both.

The boys talk of football, all passes and bluster
while the girls are all boisterious and putting on airs.
The young ones chime in with their own silly tales.
I blow on my coffee and stifle a smile.

Not sure what brings them both to my stoop.
For the wind, perhaps cool fronts looking for warmth.
The kids may be chasing the gusts and end up here,
or maybe they come for my long-winded yarns.

No matter the reason, my spirit’s less drafty,
on days when the tempest makes my home her own.
A nod to the weather and I’m off to make welcome
the wind and the children who’ll share my front porch.