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(for deepblue)
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No do-overs. Eventually, icesickles will form outside in brand new patterns. Renewals arise as the mercury dives and a cloud shielded sun skyscales, differently viewed depending
on the wealth invested in the eye and how thickly snowfall allows.
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We make the past, try to stop to capture it in varied art, passably well. Chip it in stone so that the now winds can erase it afuture. Build monuments and gravity ultimately wins, or fire, or bombs. Look and believe the miracle on the other side of the glass. It has happened and will.
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Sit at any snowy window. Eventually, the world will sashay by. Some squirrel comes demanding scraps, some car arrives with a dimmed left headlight. Sitting at a mirror is contra-indicated during yule or kwaanza. The past congregates in mirrors.
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Windows are like reading glasses that enhance the skyscapes where the limits live. Know this, window watcher, the stars are older than last year, tomorrow is a word with two r's and three o's. The future bends over unable to stop laughing when the windowseat creaks to the sound of now slipping on the ice of time.
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Lady A
12-18-21
527a
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