Morning Window
A Winter Sparrow flits by my frosted window,
Skimming by yellow stained roofs.
Pacing up, then down, capturing my eye,
Skirting through on a coastal zephyr,
Only briefly in my view.
The wind dictating where she goes,
Ebbing and flowing, mimicking
The languid waves of the coast below.
The rolling rushes of whom my sight falls on next:
Crystal shimmerings on Neptune’s tides,
Reflections of the morning sunrise.
The glimmer smothered by first light’s haze
Suffocated by my lifeless enclave,
Withholding nature’s beauty in an artificial thrall.
My cocooned bower causing me to only see,
Shadowy illusions of a fleeting reality.
-Wattani
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