Winter Windows (Innocence and Experience)

Winter Windows in the Morning (Innocence)

The winter-silent
Snow fell quiet.
Cold light, soft down.
With the dark of night
In its cold light
Did the snow lay down.

Yet every morning,
Another day
Bringing light of dawn.
The sun then singing,
Morning bringing
Came the light of dawn

Yellows gaily glow,
Through the window,
As the night is done.
With vigilant sight
By dusted light
Watch the night undone

Do others rising
Wake up gazing
And hear singing trees?
That early ringing
The birds singing
From the barren trees.


Winter Windows in the Morning (Experience)

With yet another sleepless night
The aching, breaking, back that waits
Wide wake. Waking
Below synthetic silent light,
That steady sickly sun berates.
Work, work. Working.

The hours race, creep, crawl away
Though nothing nothing feels yet done.
Do. Do. Doing.
And with the windows, laugh to say,
“You dread the coming of the sun”
Rude, rude, ruing.

Rise early with the songbird’s way.
The tiny, starved, and angry swifts
Sing war-warning.
With spread wings at the sounds of day,
Shines cold sun on suburban cliffs.
Haste. Work. Working.

The glowing panes you may give praise
But window’s charm by freedom fails
Work, sigh. Sighing.
Amongst the clouds, a pale globe lays,
And in the wind the dark branch sails
Work. Rise. Rising.



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