Early every morning I recite my rhymes -
Poetry and passages I've captured over time.
I daily keep them fresh, and they keep me company -
Old friends I speak to, and they speak to me.

On my front porch, the trees and herbs and flowers
I regale with incantations for close to half and hour.
In that magical solitude I put on quite a show,
Making mighty pronouncements, or confessions shy and low.

But now and then I go inside for a moment or two,
To cut a slice of bread or pour the morning brew.
I keep up the chatter, but to a patter under my breath I switch,
And the baby sees me going about, muttering like a witch.