SHUTTERS IN PERSPECTIVE

Baked crisp as parchment,
Flaked and crumbling, curled
Like dried up orange skins
With the scents of age

Between half-lit lines, still,
In a rocking chair with creaks
And sighs of its own,
Unmoved as Whistler’s mother
She watches the shutters
Closing in perfect proportion.
The leaves thin and weaken
To hang unhinged.

She is practising
The art of focus
From the perspective
Of an absent mind.

Julie Anne Gilligan - Chelmsford