The Hammock Swing

Wooden shoulders
attached to the ceiling with a hook
and a net hanging down,
a sailboat- with nothing underneath
but the breeze.
This is where my sister sits in the summer,
tanned legs swinging.
The corner of the porch
seems like the corner of the world.
A place to observe
or read
or talk
on the phone
for hours.
The crisscrossed ropes are a dream catcher,
all bad things blocked
and only the good let through.
For me to look at her
I tilt my head upwards.
We sit,
laugh,
and dream.
"Everything's going to be all right" she teaches me.
She leans back with night sky behind.
"It's us against the world."
She's a quiet piece of furniture-
my guru.