At My Table By My Kitchen Window

at my table by my kitchen window i wonder what has become of me the world passes by much faster these days and seems like i am not alway moving with it most times i sit at the old table by the window and watch seasons rapidly changing colors swirling dry leaves curling funneled by errant winds birds are born eat flutter bathe take flight and die all in a brief span it is as if by some invisible hand a year is condensensed into a day and try as i might i cannot not avert my eyes from this frightful beautiful play