May 15, 2017 Original Poetry
A Seeing Thing
©May15th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
Sunlight falls, green and wet, among the branches,
Settles like a sigh on rain-damp earth and brick,
Glows, incandescent, for a moment, as clouds
Reveal a forgotten sky and breath of air.
Rusty blackbird flies in to perch and pick seeds
From a sodden bird-feeder close to empty.
A reddish bird preens and fans tail on slender branch
My dog growls, twirling in the other room.
The Japanese maple spreads her leaves like fire
Burning low in the hearth, full of wooded light.
Ferns, tender and green and ancient, spread their fans.
And I sit, a seeing thing, empty of thought.
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