It's Still Life

In This Summer Bright Room

This is my room.
I am its centre.

This is my mother.
My father.
Their photos framed.
They are with me
on the windowsill,
with my children,
and their own children,
with this dog and that dog
whose lives
enriched mine.

The wall behind me
is shelved with books.
References to this and that,
that fiction, and those maps,
this ancient history,
and that archeology.
Volumes of books
on cookery.

The walls are painted
a soft shade of suede .
A yellow jade rabbit
sits near my desk.
I was born a Rabbit.*
I am a rabbit.

The window is open,
always
to summer, and I hear
the train to Brighton.
Sounds carry up these
steep rounded hills.

It whistles into the crosswind,
a stuttering whimper,
a warning wheeze.
Its wheels rush the rails
with a death rattle,
and then
it’s gone.

This summer-bright room
holds still waters,
holds my sight in its
enclosure.
My ears are my eyes.

for dVerse Poets “Looking Out the Window” and Twiglet #188 “Sleepy Water” images © Misky 2020 — *Chinese Year of the Rabbit. I have an age-related eye condition which often distorts my long-vision.

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