Room of Three Windows

Who positions windows this high?

So high a step stool begs to be climbed.

Rectangular, a six inch height

Horizontally, two feet long.

A limited viewing for all

Less than seven feet tall.

Sky, sunlight, clouds, rain,

Branches of oak, splatters of bugs,

Smears and spots blurry with age.

Telephone poles, electrical lines,

Moonlight, early dawn, and frost

Adorn the high brow view,

As twilight sneaks guiltily through

Two windows on high.

Lying in bed, the third

Window so low,

Floating above earth

A mere foot or so.

If you flattened enough,

Add a twist of your neck

'Til it cracks, then relax

You can gaze out with ease,

Upon miner's grass,

Mean sticky weeds,

Entangled barbed wire

Choking discarded pipes

Corrupted with rust.

Patiently a'waiting the

Mending of the fence..

Fast approaching decline

Of an empire fumbling

Then crumbling quick

Like bricks upon the land.

Sand ripping, stripping,

Sneaky and grainy

Brings torment to

Eyes hankering to see.

Room of three windows

Has no cares, nor concerns,

Complaints or desires,

Not a thing to discern.

The space in the room

Is all that it needs,

For views mean nothing

With no eyes to see.

Laurie B. Ballard

March 6, 2024