ODE TO ADIRONDACK CHAIRS
that hunker down on my bookshelf,
toy models dreaming of a past
where a young man constructed them,
another facsimile, another lifetime,
still he choose each board carefully
for grain warp and and texture
as if he were building a sailboat.
Place-holders for other chairs
that once graced summer porches
say, at the cabin by the lake
where the afternoon wind
ruffled and knitted the water
into a frothy shawl,
and the family reminisced,
told stories, threading the past
to the present.
And the occasional slap
and splash of fish
leaping skyward
toward the clouds,
interrupted daydreams
of summers long lost,
where the family once gathered.
But the cabin was sold
when the grandparents died,
and the family,
once united by those chairs,
scattered to the four winds,
set sail for other realms.
3/23/21
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