Cliff Wise
1 min readJan 24, 2022
Photo from Patch


She lived under

The screened in porch

In front of the cottage

Warm evenings we would

Sit by candlelight

Listen to the sounds

Of the night

Crickets and that nice bug

I called him with the

Long constant trill

Sometimes guitar sounds

Vibrating out into the night

From this old box

Between my hands

Older than me by three years

Handmade with care

You can tell that from the sound

If you listen with that in mind

She would appear

Just beside my chair

Moving sleepily into the night

Not two feet away

Large white stripes

Much larger than her

Off Cape brethren

Equal white and black almost

She looked back sometimes

At our odd sounds and light

Before shuffling off into the night

Some said we should block off

The entrance to keep her out

Something made me feel secure

In her welcome close to our world

Some connection there

You can’t describe

A quiet friend under

The screened in porch

Cliff Wise

Book series - Anxiety is not Depression ‘Bring Order to the Chaos’, ‘Daily Reader’, ‘Questions and Answers’. The view from the inside about these disorders.