That East Cliff Apartment
Geometric shadows move slowly
across the blinds
of my West facing window,
by a well meaning fence.
Protection becomes displeasing aesthetic.
Mindfully I meditate on what holds
My reading chair stretches
its legs and settles in for a story,
though I am distracted by the magnificence
of yawning magnolia blossoms,
visible through the open front door.
The pages of my book call
to me by coughing up dust,
collected from a year of detritus
falling upon it with each new day,
only to be seen during this hour.
Particles dance down rays of light
in choreographed movement
I'm wrapped now in the warmth
of orange valour.
My chair has seen many decades
and I begin to read, losing myself in
the archetypes of man and woman.
In red shoes I run with the wolves.