Debba and Arthur's shade-porch,

attached to the house, roofed by plastic

or maybe metal, who knows, I didn't look up,

walled in on three sides by what looks
to be slabs or slats of aluminum,
or of something like vertical venetian blinds,
ginormous, spaced slightly apart,

admitting slender slices of light
and a bracing chill on grey April days,
these "walls," as we'll agree to call them,
supplemented by mosquito netting,
and the whole space so enclosed,
conducive to relaxation,
with at least two overstuffed chairs,
small wicker tables each padded with a mat,

and, mounted on the outer wall of the house,

a white screen on which they can watch movies,

and baskets and corners and hideaways for Rocky
and a wee cat-flap in the door
to let him out to wander, if he's inclined to,

in the scraggly slope and sprawl of the yard.