From the Window

Last night it was a whispering wind All the windows I had left open An impressive poetry of the wind in the mosquito net So said Jean-Paul Sartre With your geometry I was doing red and blue calligraphy Now it's a sullen morning Sky wearing a cloud coat Nowhere a speed boat However I regard it as good Had the life been a monotony of only swollen mosquito nets the calligraphy would obviously have lost its curvy geometry There you are bending down picking flowers from the ground the brown gown touching the long grass I am a woodpecker with a crush forgetting my breakfast The door bell rang I came to The newspaper A political leader arrested for taking bribe A scribe under threat Rattling cups and plates in the kitchen In the distant park a young girl engrossed in a chatting session with the sunflowers