How good to have a quiet window
a frame upon the world,
a place the mind can wander through
and visions be unfurled.
To cleave a path that leads away
and then comes back again,
to show a blossom dip its head
and shake its slender stem.
On stormy days to be a shield
on sunny days a sieve,
the window always does the job,
is always there to give.
To cast a glance on country field
or cityscape the same,
the window makes it all a gift
on which to write one’s name.
It doesn’t matter what the view
(just that a view is there),
and that one takes the time to look,
to let the window share.