About the Two Felled Adirondack Chairs Frozen on the Patio Jennifer Campbell, SUNY Erie Professor of English Poem originally published in Evening Street Review I know what it looks like. I’m sure the neighbors think we’ve given up the act, upper-middle order upended, refused the fire pit and tucked away Tiki bar. Not a failing, these light chairs stay the course all winter, whether frozen upside down or blown across the yard, reminders of endurance and a touch of madness. They are snow rulers and weather barometers, perches for the birds that decide it is mild enough to stay. Bark-brown, the plastic chairs have a place against green or white. And my husband and I watch them, out the window, through the sliding door, reporting on their micro movements, certain the toppled seats will remain for the next time we desire to fill them.
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