I Am Sitting in the Sun

I am sitting in the sun

on our front veranda

just where you liked to sit,

in a chair almost identical

to the one you always used.

(That one, I finally noticed,

had had its day — ironic.)

I have added a small table

between the pot plant and the chair.

Yes, that potplant's still hanging on.

What does it mean when a jade bush,

placed at the door for luck,

lasts frailly for decades

yet fails to thrive?

I am seeing parallels, of course,

with you in your last years,

before you died. I am looking back

at the ways that, even then,

you enjoyed your life.

Eventually you wouldn't sit

too long out here in the sun.

Even our winter sun gets hot,

and the damn chair

had become uncomfortable.

Why did you never say?

I would have changed it for you.

But you seldom complained,

I realise only now. You were amazing!

I am cherishing

the ordinary things of life,

as you did, knowing

these are our blessings, these

are the things that matter:

our fine, unearned delights.

I am sitting in the sun.

Poetic Asides April Poem A Day Challenge 2013, 18: I am ...