A single Shaker chair,
the wood, hickory, gleams in the morning light.
The checkerboard seat cover is worn.
It is the only item in the whole room.
Alone, it stands out. You notice it.
It’s simplicity stands out.
Museum goers peer in the door.
One or two flicker in and out.
Most move on to the next.
You stay. You linger.
It is a place of worship.
A sacred space.
Somewhere a Shaker craftsman is smiling.
About this poem.
I thrive in simplicity.
One of the tenants of being a Shaker is that work, and the things created from it, are sacred, part of your connection to God. It shows in their exquisite simplicity.
The picture was taken at the Hancock Shaker Village.