why am i inside?

Part I: she sees the storm

green against blue is lovely, and soft
but green against gray has a harsh beauty
that I sometimes prefer.

today is one of those days.

today the clouds are strong and solid
and so many different shades of grey
it's amazing there's only one name.

against this sky the leaves of trees are strong,
inviting the storm, irrationally unafraid,
dancing and laughing as they shake.

sadly, i’ve found myself in a room with no windows,
haunted by a guilty sense of irreverence at having walked out
(or walked in?)
on the skillful weaving of such a storm
to sit inside wood paneled walls.


Part II: she escapes institution through imagination

upon further inspection, I suspect that these walls
were once California oak trees
(the ones that are actually the legs of giants).
yes, they were legs of giants,
giants, before they were captured, divided,
tamed and polished
to make this dignified classroom.

so yes, i'm inside, but not in a room
i'm inside the severed leg of an ancient giant,
if i close my eyes,
i can almost feel him move.