It is on the front porch
beside a table,
opposite another chair
that is exactly the same.

But no one sits in it.
Its value is decidedly
for balance. A table needs
a chair on each side
like a bird needs two wings.

Each evening the man
takes his coffee out the door,
mentioning to his wife
that he’s going to have fellowship.
With whom? She wonders.

The chair no one sits in
is empty and silent,
as is the street where
no children are playing,
no neighbors about.
That may be it, after all.

Silence. No arguing or
opinions voiced from
the chair no one sits in, only
the sound of his looking.
Fellowship with the lilac tree,
the dogwood, and the lily,
that is enough.

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