At the Window



Feel glad if the cold outside the pane

Is turned back as the light pours in:

Here where an abandoned web

Resembles memory, really,

(Not a mirror) reliquary for flies.


That whirl is not a hummingbird.

Maybe windows altered thought

But windowís not a sacred boundary.

You like what you see through a window


Or not, can appreciate

How wind beats the sheer pane

With fury; seen through window

Night falls, you move toward a phantom

Just like you, ephemeral.


Look for distortion in old windows!

And how new clean glass sets us free:

Optics, cathedrals, histories

Start here; thirst can be easy.


Gregory Jerozal