I was going to take out the trash and the trash cans are right next to where The Oasis begins. Right, where your mother’s chair sits in the crystal circle. The crystals were harvested in Colorado with Jace a mile off of a trail, past wild crafted teepees. First, you go through the grove of Aspen trees. And then the muddy path…
This chair began it’s long life at Jamie’s house, our editor at Plants & Poetry Journal. It belonged to her mother, Sunny. Perhaps it began much earlier, once a pure metal, derived from the Earth's crust, formed billions of years ago when the universe first appeared. This white wired metal chair would sit in the front of her porch, eavesdropping on conservations, secrets, dreams. Aging like a fine whiskey or a wise oak tree. Now, 20 years later, this white chair is painted gold and has a new home in The Oasis. She sunbathes in between my young trees, providing shade to all of the wild native plants. Some wilting, waiting for the sun to Passover. Narrows with blankets of moss and underbrush. Large old cedars and Pines mixed with Aspen standing high above.
As I close the trashcan lid I look up and see your mama’s chair sitting in that crystal circle. With the spotlight of sunshine beaming on its golden shimmer. It’s cool in the shade. Very nice breeze, sunshine, and puffy clouds. Canopy dapple golden chairs sitting in the forest in crystal circles in the middle of an ordinary -taking out the trash kind of-day.