2008 September 14, 2008, POEM: WINDOWFUL

WINDOWFUL

No sky in sight; instead
three brown storeys of stuccoed apartment building, behind
sunlit trash trees on a hillside held back by blocks and
bricks, and a macadam courtyard with sheds,
trash cans, milk crates, and, right against the
window, some spear-leaved plant maybe half as tall
as I am. On the tip of one of the spears is something
that may be a scrap of blown Kleenx or may be
a wilting white blossom. I'll never find out because
when I go outside I can't get to this side of the
building. Rarely a deer appears on the hill, squirrels and
crows abound and there is the occasional
thrush. I know they're thrushes because one of my
daughters is a birder. I don't know what it
calls me and of course it doesn't know I
call it a thrush. That's all there is. Imagine!
No sky!