Drops of Color/ A Window
Drops of Color
A Window
A soft wind echoed
pushing a rock
with enough effort
that the stone let-go.
Like Rapunzel’s hair
—broken bits of the
canyon wall slid
and, like waves
crashing into the shore,
you could hear the
plumbing avalanche
causing dust to
envelop the sky.
A whispering breeze
ensued pushing away
particles and
a window revealed.
A mighty gust howled.
It needn’t penetrate
the lavish wall.
For now,
an opening
allowing a passage
into yesterday’s gone-by,
today’s vision
and tomorrow’s uncertainties.
This window,
for now,
sends an invitation to behold
the present.
Fresh air cascades
along the sill.
The curtain walls a
lovely shade and the
trees set off in the distance
look like a box of flowers
held within
the window’s arch.
Gazing awhile
through this ‘pane,’
an inner voice
taunted me until
the rock split
falling upon a blank
page creating
an image of itself
by the person holding this pen.
“It IS A Holy Thursday”
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