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#gnatsgnatting
Jigsaw puzzle of greenery, the trees Nestle next to each in the slicing sideways light of sunset. The yard in the back is filled with it, Filled with the late late summer side slant of sun, The plastic Adirondack chairs, left, as we left them, Me, looking at you, maybe my feet in your lap... No, it wasn’t us that set them ajar. The one time we sat there, your discomfort Grated on my tranquil storybook Vision, of us sitting in the sun, Drinking, The Wine, so we went inside. Now I see them, those pretend plastic, Pale blue, light blue to match The house, chairs of ease, One chair looking at the other, while the other stares off into Space. We meant to build a fire that Summer, a fire pit evening of Romance. But, I saw your dis-ease. Was it the heat? The drone of the bugs? The chance of a gnat, Landing in your drink?   Or was it,…something Different. Something not found in the sideways slant of cooling air. Was it, something else, off in that horizon, Blocked by the pale blue, the light Blue house. Something, cutting your sight Off from the road. It must have been, because, you said Goodbye, several times That summer.  A nod, a kiss, and you were Off, in your mind, because you never left, but sat in your uncomfortable Sadness of not Belonging here, or Where you thought; Wistful plans set,  a Blaze, not by Midnight cords of wood in a pile among the Rocks, Set ablaze by whimsy, A promise,  not Promise.   So, we sat that summer, and watched the flowers in the pots bloom, and the rains carry one away, And the gnats gnatting as gnats do, Cannon balling into pinot, taking  up Residence, in that Pale blue, light blue house With plastic mountain Chairs On the lawn. Those chairs, Those, Adirondack chairs Still sit, still sit askew, still sit, in the slanting light, Still sit, waiting, as I do, For a time Things, will be right with the World. We must get, to the other side, of That Summer. Let the snow pile high, on those Chairs, Get to, the whimsy, and the Promise. Watch down the road, for a time to travel, and not sit, in uncomfortable Sadness, Askew in plastic Chairs.
0
Feb 23, 2021
Feb 23, 2021 at 2:28 PM UTC
deborah-t-johnson
Adirondack Chairs
Jigsaw puzzle of greenery, the trees Nestle next to each in the slicing sideways light of sunset. The yard in the back is filled with it, Filled with the late late summer side slant of sun, The plastic Adirondack chairs, left, as we left them, Me, looking at you, maybe my feet in your lap... No, it wasn’t us that set them ajar. The one time we sat there, your discomfort Grated on my tranquil storybook Vision, of us sitting in the sun, Drinking, The Wine, so we went inside. Now I see them, those pretend plastic, Pale blue, light blue to match The house, chairs of ease, One chair looking at the other, while the other stares off into Space. We meant to build a fire that Summer, a fire pit evening of Romance. But, I saw your dis-ease. Was it the heat? The drone of the bugs? The chance of a gnat, Landing in your drink?   Or was it,…something Different. Something not found in the sideways slant of cooling air. Was it, something else, off in that horizon, Blocked by the pale blue, the light Blue house. Something, cutting your sight Off from the road. It must have been, because, you said Goodbye, several times That summer.  A nod, a kiss, and you were Off, in your mind, because you never left, but sat in your uncomfortable Sadness of not Belonging here, or Where you thought; Wistful plans set,  a Blaze, not by Midnight cords of wood in a pile among the Rocks, Set ablaze by whimsy, A promise,  not Promise.   So, we sat that summer, and watched the flowers in the pots bloom, and the rains carry one away, And the gnats gnatting as gnats do, Cannon balling into pinot, taking  up Residence, in that Pale blue, light blue house With plastic mountain Chairs On the lawn. Those chairs, Those, Adirondack chairs Still sit, still sit askew, still sit, in the slanting light, Still sit, waiting, as I do, For a time Things, will be right with the World. We must get, to the other side, of That Summer. Let the snow pile high, on those Chairs, Get to, the whimsy, and the Promise. Watch down the road, for a time to travel, and not sit, in uncomfortable Sadness, Askew in plastic Chairs.
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