Ode to a Window

Before this perfect square alone I stand

and I reflect upon its very meaning.

It’s not a box.... an outlet!-- I demand

to be let out. Outside, the stars are gleaming.

The darkness makes it seem as if they blend

together with the window, thus deceiving

a child into thinking that his hand

could touch a shining star and this believing,

his spirit leaves a hand-print on the glass.

The window is our link to the outside.

It floods us with the greenery of grass

and makes us snug as it allows the light

that penetrates the leaves of trees to pass

into our lives as well, and we delight

to share its heat. A normal window has

four corners and four sides (each side

is tangent to two corners), which then form

four angles that are measured in degrees.

These measures are important when a storm,

with raging winds, picks up the small debris,--

they make the windows strong and keep you warm,

and windows block the branches of the trees

that bend with raging winds out of the norm.

Thus windows are the messengers of peace.

At night, they are like mirrors, they reflect

our every move and thus it often seems

when we are doubled by this strange effect

that we are living in the land of dreams,

where even parallels will somehow intersect,

where star-crossed lovers find the hidden seams.

The eye-- the star, two points now connect

and hands, again reach up for silver beams.