Ode to a Chair

 Who knows where these ideas come from?  I suddenly thought I wanted to write about my recliner, on which I have spent much of the last five months.  It made me think of Pablo Neruda's odes to ordinary things.  I once knew his "Ode to Tomato" by heart, and loved hearing Doug recite the one to socks.  So, remembering them and Neruda (not that I can in any way compare myself to him), here is my ode to a chair.

Stolid and stalwart,

it sits by the window

with a vista of distant hills,

local trees and dwellings,

and bird feeders bustling

with finches and hummingbirds.

Reclined, its chestnut leather skin

opens into a nest of ease,

accompanied by a soft,

pale green blanket.

Upright, it is a perfect place

for reading to children.

The chair has been comfort,

companion and consoler.

Praise the small things 

that hold us up!

Here is an articulation of gratitude

to the chair of my illness

and my healing.