Ode To A Chair

The old metal chair sits in the backyard,
Its back firm,
Its arms magnanimously at its side.

It weathers all the seasons,
Patiently enduring snow and storms
And oxidizing sun.

Dirt and grime settle on it.
Rain pools on its seat and evaporates,
Leaving behind rusty stains.

Birds perch on its shoulders
And dribble whitely down its back.
Spiders weave their way between its legs,
Entangling bugs and leaves
That hang on tight all summer
Catching a ride to nowhere.

Windy storms shake it,
Knock it flat on its back
Where it will lie waiting
Until someone rights it.

Once in a while,
I wipe it clean and sit in its embrace.
Then I can see the world
As this chair sees it,
Watching and waiting,
Tilted slightly back
In a gesture
Of adoration.

By Maria Brady-Smith
Photo by Mike Smith