there were Adirondack chairs

there were Adirondack chairs

in our backyard 

and when we left,

I passed them along to my sister

and she scattered them, randomly, 

around the grounds

of the camp in Northern Ontario 

and when she sent me pictures

of how lovely they looked there . . .

I smiled: 

so comforting to think of them

ensconced serenely, holding my memories

- and new ones - through four seasons

season after season

year after year

in moss and colored leaves,

piled in snow shimmers - 

raindrops, plopping gently

on the green coat of paint 

I gave them,

to chip away time . . .

like tree rings

I remember eating raspberries

and sipping beer in those Adirondack chairs 

under a black velvet canopy

filled with spark pin points of stars

– so many and so close –

you could reach out and capture them 

in splayed fingers

I remember humming at the end of the evening

and, even now,

when it is time to put children to bed,

in wafts of summer’s end,

I hum to my grandchildren

and, for a moment, 

those Adirondack chairs,

come to mind – like faded photographs.

photo:  Adirondack Chairs – W. Bourke

© 2013 Wendy Bourke