to explain the picture of a tree

I am writing on my yellow pad (that I stole from
dad’s desk), with large pencil
cursive that is too tall, too fat
in the blue lines.

I am sitting on my yellow and blue striped bed
two mix matched socks
(one with the toe part hanging off)
sweep the hardwood.

it is dinnertime, and Ray Charles croons
up the stairs, down the hall
into the tuna meat of our sandwiches.

Summer is has settled, and the smell of wood smoke
comes into the house

comes into the house with the Indian yellow light.
from my bedroom window
I am watching the shiny copper
eucalyptus sway her head
and the pendulum motion of her curly hair.