Image: Barbara Ryther
The Rocker
Its white wooden frame
Invites
But doesn’t coddle
Supports
But doesn’t envelop
It’s not a chair to sink into
It’s a chair to partner with
It holds you
You set it moving
Together you are rocking
Without effort you relax
Become alert
You turn outward
Senses heightened
Aware of what’s around you
The rocker is here
To help you see
Green trees
Flowing in sunlit and shadowed waves
Toward the disordered mountain peaks
Clouds running races high above
Then tumbling down over the mountain tops
Mist overpowering rock
Sinking into the valleys
Descending in rainy columns
They wait
The shifting sun and shadows
The ephemeral clouds
The old growth forest
The ancient mountains
And the rocker waits
For someone to come
To sit
To rock
To see
Barbara Ryther