Through the Window Pane, From a Red Green Chair

(water color on paper)

There, the corner of the sky float little birds.

Behind gray grids

Tall oak fans wide

She grasps one brittle leaf

Below, its siblings

Swirl root to root.

Above, a crown of crows

Heads pulled inward, mute eyes scanning.

Fragments of car and truck

Pass the gaps ‘tween

Pale wooden slats,

Boundary for the outer world

All seen by one

Anchored to a red green chair.

Body limited by his brittle heart

Buoyed by pyrotechnic pills,

Lungs once a multiverse of bellows

Now air locked catacombs.

Pancreas enslaved to needles,

Joints injured, inflamed, in need

Of repair.

Yearn,

Dream,

Dab the eyes

Wish the arms would grow

And grow

Stretch through the panes

Beyond the oak

Push back the gate

To breath, to walk to

Live easily

Away from the red green chair.

All in a moment

His mind blinks …

Melancholy pulls all back

To darkness.

In blackness color dashes

Scatters, settles in.

What use is hope?

Damn the damage done.

Accept the seat.

What’s left of time?

This stew that is his parts,

Once lid rattling,

Rests cold upon the counter

By the red green chair.

There, upon the knee

Two tiny eyes graced with passion

Coiled from nostril to bristled tail.

Up, blur of fur

Across the lap

White bridge with

Blue and purple shadows.

Hand under ear,

Gentle little rub

Away the outer world

With purrs

One smile bears a second.

Lungs expand,

Inner space expands, there

In the corner of his sky float little birds

Around old oak

Crowns of boasting crows

Call to those below

Adorned in the red green chair.

A painting that led to a poem, so far my pattern (one leads to the next).   Partially inspired while looking out the back window on a cold winter day and the many furry souls that help connect my daily dots.