Chair

So, Vee, you asked about the chair.  Yesterday I lost my wallet in the layers next to the chair I have had for twenty-three years.  I found it when I got home after lunch.  It was sitting on top of everything.  Sometimes this old blue chair feels like the center of the universe.  Everything spirals out from here.

This chair has carried me

For years.

In sickness and in health,

When I could not move

Or merely rested.

Here I watched the hummingbird

Drink the columbine

Next to the window.

Here I have written reflection

Upon reflection

Upon reflection.

Here I have seen the years

Advance.

Here I have added or subtracted

Blankets and pillows

When they were needed.

This is my thinking chair,

My creative chair.

This is my learning to get older chair,

My chair in which I realize

I am not that old,

I have years to go.

Here I did

All the reading and writing

For that final graduate degree.

If I mine the stacks of books

Next to my chair

I find pieces of the strata

Of my life.

Sometimes

The recliner part

Sticks,

But I know

That is mainly

A metaphor

(for something).